Death In The Desert
by AmyD and Suisan
Summary: The FBI always investigates deaths in our National Parks. NCIS always investigates cases involving Navy or Marine Personnel. What happens when those absolutes collide? Xover w/NCIS - but not the one you think. AU-Granger'Verse. Rated "M". COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Death in the Desert**

By: Suisan, just one of the Twisted Evilettes

A Numb3rs story with NCIS Original Characters (mostly)

Synopsis: The FBI _always_ works cases of death (accidental or otherwise) in our National Parks. NCIS _always_ works cases involving Navy or Marine Corps personnel. What happens when those absolutes conflict? Sparks Galore! Granger'Verse

Cameos by _'NCIS: Naval Criminal Investigation Services'_ characters and mention of other another character from another CBS show.

A/N: Now, before you go thinking I didn't have my fellow Twisted Evilette's ample assistance on this tale – think again. AmyD did assist, sometimes by just listening as I bounced ideas off her, or with dialogue or even with ideas when the muse was being stubborn and just plain not cooperating with me. She also acted at First Beta-Reader. This tale is a part of the Cascade Granger 'Verse we created and, oh yes my pretties, there be Original Characters within. Many thanks to Elysium & RiverOtterUS for providing their services as Proofers and Editors.

Disclaimer: I do not "own" Numb3rs, NCIS or any of the characters that you might recognize from television; I am merely borrowing them to explore an alternate universe and will return them in a (mostly) intact condition. Many, many, may thanks go out to Cheryl Heuton, Nick Falacci, Donald Bellisario, Don McGill, Anthony Zuiker, Ann Donahue, Jerry Bruckheimer, Tony & Ridley Scott . . . without your vision and your ability to bring things like storylines and characters to life, this world would be a much duller place. I really am just an admirer, a fan and a poor college student trying to get her Associates in both Criminal Justice and Criminal Sciences.

Part One

It was a rare event in Colby Granger's life; a Saturday afternoon where he didn't have fighter practice - canceled due to only two people showing up, no active cases at the office who's paperwork he'd allowed to fall behind, and so he found himself with free time to spend in one of the University libraries to conduct research on 7th Century armor patterns. Any guilt he might have felt by taking the time to indulge in the more cerebral part of his other life, the historical exploration, didn't even try to surface as he walked up the steps into the cool, quiet interior of one of the largest buildings the main UCLA campus.

He took a moment to stop and sign in as a 'guest' at the main desk, inquiring after the librarian on duty if their collection of antique tomes on the Middle Ages was still housed in the basement - it was, he headed down a often overlooked staircase off on the north side of the building to where he recalled the books he needed were housed. When Colby had come here on Saturdays in the past, he hadn't been here in over 6 months thanks to a heavier than usual case load - including a couple that had damn near resulted in his death, and trying to balance that with his fighter practice leading up to his earning his Marshal's Card from the Society, he'd always had the entire history section to himself. Sunny days in Los Angeles weren't rare, but this was the first time one had fallen on a weekend after several days of continuous cloud cover and the ever present, but never presenting, threat of rain. He was actually surprised to see someone lurking in the stacks of the very section he'd hoped to peruse.

Students should've been out in the quad or exploring the city and the beaches on a day like today, but here was one, her nose buried in a book, standing right in the middle of the 8th Century section. '_Maybe she's got a paper coming up._' He thought as he took note of her appearance.

She had to be close to his own height of six foot, he couldn't be positive without standing right next to her and, for the moment, he was doing his best to observe her covertly. He moved into the aisle and started moving slowly toward the 7th Century section, keeping one eye on her while the other actually scanned the spines of the books on the shelves, looking for the one he seemed to recall finding in this library before. Colby took in the girl's - make that woman's - appearance as he searched for the book on armor design. Besides being tall, mostly in her legs, she was trim and had a tanned complexion, as evidenced by her bare arms shown off to toned and lightly muscled perfection in a white, sleeveless blouse over blue jeans. Dark brown hair, long and straight, reaching midway down her back, was caught up in a loose, messy ponytail that was held only by a pencil tucked into place.

He moved over another section, closer to the reading woman, and noticed how heavy her hip bag seemed to hang on her right side. She moved a little, adjusting her weight distribution and actually turning her torso a little more square to his location - a classic defense posturing - giving Colby the opportunity to see the make of the bag on her hip, which exactly matched the one on his that carried his sidearm, badge and identification. He stopped his leisurely perusal of the shelves as he found the book he'd been hunting for and took it from the shelf and started to flip through it.

Just a few minutes later, the library's air conditioner kicked on, valiantly trying to combat the heat and humidity outside, and Colby caught a whiff of something very intriguing on the artificial breeze. He closed his eyes as he took a couple of deep breaths in through his nose, trying to place the unique soft scent, and realized it was some sort of rose with an underlying note of sulfur and cordite. Gunpowder.

"You going to say anything or just stand there and exercise your olfactory sense?"

His eyes snapped open, surprised that the woman had addressed him and in such a sultry and amused tone. "Excuse me?" Colby said, not sure what else he could say after that.

She aimed him a tolerant and slightly bemused smile, which actually lit up her blue-gray eyes, and spoke again with that high alto voice. "Okay, maybe I'm mistaken and you weren't sniffing around me like some sort of hound and actually suffer from allergies. Can I get you a tissue or something?"

Colby felt the heat rush up his neck to his face, but smiled at her anyway as he responded. "If I admitted to sniffing, would you think me a dog?"

"Depends on the why." She closed her book and shifted it to her left hand, leaving her right hand free. Smart.

"Your perfume caught my attention. It's a very odd, but nice, combination of some sort of sweet rose and, unless I'm totally mistaken, gunpowder?"

"Interesting." She noted. "Very few people would know the underlying scent was gunpowder." A dark brow, shaped but not overly so, moved up a smooth forehead in a Vulcan-like fashion. "You don't look like some LA gang-banger, your hair is a little too long to be military regulation … street cop or detective?" Her eyes traveled downward as they obviously took in and recognized the bag on Colby's own hip before those blue-gray orbs snapped back up to his face.

It was professionally done and not at all subtle; he had just been sized up. He wasn't going to tell her the truth, a lot of the local cops had bad feelings toward FBI agents in general, but an agent of his standing did a lot of street work…. "Street cop and I'm willing to bet you are as well." He motioned toward her hip with his head.

The woman nodded in agreement and then held out her right hand, her weapon hand, to Colby. "Yes, I am. Yelena Dunbar."

Colby shook her hand, pleased with her firm grip, even as he introduced himself - noting as he did so that Yelena hadn't offered up the name of her department either. "Colby Granger. You a history student here, Dunbar?"

For some reason his question caused her to blush, very prettily, and avert her eyes back to the shelving holding the 7th and 8th Century books. "In a round-a-bout way. I'm actually looking for a new surcoté pattern."

"Surcoté?" Colby repeated, his curiosity piqued. "Society or LARP?" Yelena Dunbar's reaction was one of clear surprise and he grinned at her.

The Society of Creative Anachronism wasn't a secret society, but very few people would admit to being a member - especially if they were in law enforcement in their _mundane_ lives. There weren't many members in the SCA who still partook of 'medicinal herbs' like marijuana at events, but there were enough that members who were cops had learned to turn a blind-eye to the fact.

Yelena didn't respond to his question, seemingly still shocked that anyone could make such a leap in logic, and Colby understood her reluctance; if she was local, she wasn't in his Barony and - therefore - might actually be part of an "enemy" state. "I'm SCA. Part of the Lyonmere Barony and, in fact, just made Marshal here in Caid Kingdom." He hoped by admitting his own involvement, she would open up. She did.

"I just returned to Caid and I'm actually an inactive member of the Stronghold of Calaphía until I decide if I'm going to stay down there or move further up the coast."

For Colby Granger, that last response from Yelena Dunbar was just the start of a lovely afternoon, which blended into a wonderful evening of food, coffee and conversation. They even decided to catch a movie together, as long as it was, like everything else that day, Dutch treat. By early Sunday morning, they had exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet again Monday evening after they both got off work. Tuesday they agreed to meet at yet another 'neutral' location and by Wednesday all was going well between them, until Yelena's cell phone rang. She answered, after stepping away from the table she shared with him, then made her excuses when she returned. Something had come up at work and she needed to drive down south that evening. The evenings and nights of dinner, dancing, coffee and conversation were temporarily put on hold but not permanently if Granger had anything to say about it.

Thursday, all went to hell in a hand basket.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Don Eppes hated long road trips that were necessitated by remote cases. In this particular instance he was sharing the drive down to Joshua Tree National Park with David Sinclair, even as Colby Granger and Megan Reeves followed in Reeves' issued sedan. Potential felonies on national park land fell into the FBI's lap, even when there were fully qualified US Park Rangers who could handle the investigation and, if the ranger who'd discovered this body was correct, they were heading to a possible homicide scene. They'd already been on the road for well over two hours and Don found himself looking forward to stopping, if only so he could get out and stretch his legs.

The case had been called into the Riverside County Sheriff's Office who had, in turn, notified the closest FBI office - Los Angeles - who's Assistant Director of Investigations had decided that a potential homicide on federally protected lands was just what Don Eppes' crack team of sleuths needed to get back into the swing of things after several weeks of extremely dull and uncomplicated cases.

Seeing the entrance to the park marked on a highway sign, Don gestured to David who nodded and pulled out the two-way radio he and Granger had thought to bring along. "Colby, did you see the sign?"

"Yeah, I did. Don't be surprised if…."

Colby didn't get to finish his sentence, but was nice enough to wave at Don through the passenger's side window as Megan Reeves put her foot through the firewall of her sedan and passed Don's SUV like it was standing still.

Don shook his head as David broke out in laughter. "I guess we'll meet them at the main entrance."

"With no need to rush, either." David responded as he finally settled down. "I'm guessing we probably shouldn't tease her about too much tea before a long road trip?"

"Not unless you want to volunteer to the be the practice dummy at Megan's next Krav Maga demonstration." Don pulled off Hwy 10, then followed the marked signs to the main entrance of Joshua Tree National Park and found Reeves' sedan parked, its engine slightly ticking as it cooled off, in front of the main ranger station. Granger was standing out front, leaning up against the adobe-style building, but careful about not standing in the sunlight. Don understood that as he parked, turned off the engine of his SUV and opened his door.

It was like opening the door on a pizza oven. Heat spilled into the cool interior of his GMC, sucking the cold air right out into the dry heat and instantly causing sweat to break out on his skin. It had been a nice, if somewhat humid, 89° Fahrenheit when Don had left their offices in Los Angeles. Here in Joshua Tree it felt like it was already over 100° with little or no humidity and it wasn't even noon yet. Don didn't wait for David to catch up to him, just walked as fast as he could over the sweltering asphalt to the building and what he'd hope was a nice cool interior.

He was sadly mistaken. The inside of the Ranger Station couldn't have been much cooler than 90°, but after the heat of outside, it felt a little cooler, the worst part was there was no air circulation. At least outside there had been a small breeze blowing from the south. Don found Megan in the office off the main lobby, across from the gift shop, and was pleased to see she was already looking at the heavily detailed map of the park pinned on the wall behind the two desks crammed into the small office.

"Feeling better, Reeves?" He couldn't resist asking as he closed the door behind him, leaving David and Colby to their own devices.

"Much, thanks. This is not going to be easy, Don." She placed a long finger on the map. "The scene is clear over on the eastern edge of the park, right up against the Coronado and Mojave Deserts. Ranger Blakemore went to grab a spare cooler from his house, we're going to need it to haul in water or risk dehydration." Which, to Don's mind, explained why Megan was in here alone and where the Ranger who was supposed to meet them had run off to.

"I'm guessing Granger already knows this and is out there enlisting Sinclair's assistance in gathering supplies?" Don asked as he stepped up alongside Megan and looked to where she was still resting her finger. "Sheesh, could there be a more remote spot in this whole park?"

The door to the office opened up behind him and a man in the uniform of the US Parks Service stepped through. "There might be one more spot that is more remote, but this one's bad enough. Ranger Daniel Blakemore." Blakemore was a solidly built man with brown hair bleached nearly blonde by the sun and skin so deeply tanned that it made his blue eyes almost startling.

"Agent Don Eppes. I guess you've already been introduced to Reeves and Granger." Don shook the man's hand in way of greeting. "I'll introduce you to the final member of my team when he and Granger finish rounding up supplies."

"That would be Agent Sinclair, right? Met him just now when I turned my cooler over to Granger." Blakemore rounded the desk and stood beside Megan. "Agent Reeves, I looked at your car on my way back here, there is no way that'll make the haul out to the site. Agent Eppes, I just heard from my supervisor over at the Oasis Visitor's Center … I don't know how to tell you this but…"

Don wondered what was making the man so hesitant and couldn't help but notice that Megan's shoulders had tensed up. "What is it, Blakemore? Don't tell me you found another body?"

The ranger had the grace to smile, albeit weakly, at Don's attempted joke. "No sir, not another body … He got more information from the hikers who found the body and, well, that's where things get a little sticky."

"_Sticky_?" Don did not like the sound of that.

"Yes … seems the body was wearing dog tags and my supervisor called it in to the local Naval base, who then in turned dispatched a Navy Criminal Investigation Services team from Camp Pendleton."

Don didn't miss Megan's eyes rolling up into her head, just as he was sure she hadn't missed his similar reaction. "NCIS? I'm going to have a jurisdictional fight with an NCIS team from a Marine base?"

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Yelena Dunbar entered the NCIS office, which was nothing more than a series of cubicles tucked into the open bunk bay of a post-World War II dormitory building that also housed the base's JAG, Legal Aid and Medical Examiner's offices, and started calling out to her team members. "Lenny! You're driving the van for Doc Meese, go make sure it's fueled up and stop by Mouse's office and tell him we're in a hurry." Her senior agent, Leonard Goldblum, acknowledged her orders and, after grabbing his gear bag and sidearm, left his desk at a rapid pace and she turned her attention to the other member of her team who was present. "Rick, go find that Probie of ours, grab her gear and yours and go sign a SUV out of Motor Pool."

Agent Richard Stringfield took a moment to ask a question before leaving to follow Yelena's commands. "What have we got, Boss?"

"Freaking dead Squid out at Joshua Tree and we're the lucky SOBs who get to process the scene." She stopped by her desk and grabbed up the backpack she used as her gear bag. She was already wearing her Stringfield 1911 .45 caliber sidearm.

Richard rolled his eyes and then pointed toward the nearby head. "Probie's in there, you really want me to go in and get her?"

Yelena stopped her walk toward the stairwell and reversed course to enter the women's bathroom. "Sunny!" She called out as she entered the head, and started knocking on every stall door. "You'd better make like a lemon. We have a case and I'm not stopping between here and the scene so you can piddle." She found a locked stall door and stood in front of it, talking through the metal. "You've got five minutes to get done, meet up with Rick and get your ass over to Motor Pool!" She gave the door one final rap, then moved like a speed demon out of the bathroom, down the hall, into the stairwell where she took the stairs downward - three at a time, and in seconds found her way into the even worse excuse for an autopsy bay she'd ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on.

When she'd been assigned to Camp Pendleton five years ago, the base hospital had decided it had a better use for the previous autopsy bay in their basement and 'temporarily' moved Doctor Michael Meese, his equipment and small staff (one lowly Navy corpsman) to a small corner of the first floor of the Joint Use building. She found the medical examiner standing behind his cramped and overflowing desk, packing his medical bag.

"Dunbar," Meese said by way of greeting. "I heard we have a dead sailor over in Joshua Tree National Park. Would I be guessing correctly that you are responsible for Agent Lenny G 'volunteering' to drive my van?" He finished putting another prepackaged set of exam gloves in the ancient leather case and snapped it shut.

Yelena held a hand up as she dialed a number on her cell phone. "Sunny, don't forget to grab the 35 mm film camera, and grab that new digital one from my desk, the charger for it as well as the extra memory sticks and two portable flash attachments before you go over to Motor Pool. We might actually have need of a backup camera this case." She didn't wait for the young agent to answer, just disconnected and snapped the flip phone shut.

Meese quirked a bemused smile. "You're still riding Agent Keynes' butt? When are you going to forgive her lack of preparation from," he looked at a wall calendar, "four weeks ago today?"

She returned the doctor's warm smile with one of her own that would freeze salt water. "When she no longer has to be reminded what gear to grab when she's called out on a case." Yelena knew she was being hard on the fresh-from-academy-Probie, but Sunshine 'Sunny' Keynes was on her shakedown assignment before being shipped to her first permanent duty station and Yelena knew it was up to her and her team to shape the young, blonde, blue-eyed, fresh-faced agent into something another Team Leader would appreciate. "You ready, Mouse?"

Meese sighed as he picked up his back and walked out of his area at Yelena's side. "I really wish you would stop calling me that, Dunbar."

"Can't. You remind me too much of the House Mouse in my class when I went through Boot Camp." She beat the doctor to the outside door, pushed it open and stepped out into the 90 plus degree weather. "And, before you ask me again, yes. I asked Lenny to drive you to the scene because it's just now coming up on 1000hrs and I happen to know for a fact that you didn't get back to base from your ME Conference in Las Vegas until well after zero-three-hundred." He snorted in resignation, as if her knowing what time he'd gotten back to base was only natural. "Besides, Doc, I really didn't want to scrape you and our only coroner's van off the grill of some speeding 18-wheeler. This way, Lenny can drive and you can catch a nap if you want. We've got a pretty long drive ahead of us, ya know."

Doctor Michael "Mouse" Meese let out a spurt of laughter as they entered the Motor Pool and made their way to the waiting team mates and their vehicles - already running to cool off the interiors. "You are all heart, Agent Dunbar. You know I can't sleep in a moving vehicle of any sort."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

The drive from the south entrance to the plains below Aqua Peak in the Coxcomb Mountains had taken Don, his team and Ranger Blakemore more than an hour to transverse and most of the way had been over vastly under-improved roadways that were little more than dry creek beds. Don was pretty sure his backside needed more padding, at least his driver's side seat did, and he was also betting that after he returned to Los Angeles, he was going to need to put his SUV into the shop for a suspension overhaul. Blakemore had been nice enough to offer to haul part of the team and their supplies in the back of his HMMWV (Humvee) but Don hadn't wanted to tie the park Ranger up any longer than they had to, so he asked Daniel only to led them into the site where the body was discovered, hoping the entire time that his team would be at the scene and processing it long before the NCIS team from Camp Pendleton showed up.

'_After all, possession, or processing, is 9/10ths the law … right?_' He was already in a sour mood, fighting over a case was not how Don wanted this day to end. Or start. Whichever.

He spotted the desert-camouflage painted HMMWV long before Ranger Blakemore pulled along side it and parked. The government issued plates on the back bumper didn't reassure him either as Don stepped out of his SUV and stretched his legs as he looked around. The NCIS team was already on location and screwing around his crime scene. Great.

"Don…" Megan called out to get his attention, then pointed toward a small rise about 50 yards from their current position.

"I see 'em, Megan. Get the guys and grab our gear while I head over to hash out who's in charge of this scene." He pulled his FBI ball cap out of the backseat of his SUV and, after making sure his badge was also plainly visible on his belt, walked over toward the group of four people Megan had pointed out. Before he got more than 10 yards closer to them, one broke free from the group and started to approach, the slim form silhouetted against the backdrop of Aqua Mountain in the distance but even that couldn't distract Don from noticing the approaching form was decidedly female. As was the voice that called out to him when he was nearly halfway to her.

"You Febbies made good time, I wasn't expecting you before late this afternoon."

He hated the nick name, had since he'd first heard it after graduating from Quantico, but Don chose to ignore it. For now. "You know us Feds, we turned on the lights and sirens and came screaming down the highway from LA. You the Navy people?" Tit-for-tat … He knew there was a good chance the woman in now standing right in front of him wasn't active duty Navy and would resent being called such.

The woman's hazel-colored eyes flared, then the fire was immediately quenched as she clearly sized him up. "Yeah, NCIS. This is our crime scene, Febbie."

Don couldn't help but snort. "Yeah? Based on what? From my read of things, we've got a dead body on federally protected lands, that kinda puts it in my court."

"We've already established that the body is dressed in dungarees, Navy undress uniform if you didn't know, and wearing dog tags which tell me he's a Seaman First Class and _that_ makes it MY case." Don couldn't help but notice the woman's eyes flickering off to his left and maybe focusing on someone or something behind him, but he wasn't about to turn to see what or who it was.

Aiming to deescalate the tension building between them, Don tried another tactic. "As you've already, and astutely, figured out, I'm from the FBI. Don Eppes." He held out his hand in greeting to the woman, who's eyes flicked back to hold his as she shook his hand and introduced herself just before her gaze flipped back over his shoulder and rolled like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Agent Yelena Dunbar … Oh _shit_."

Not exactly what Don had been expecting, but her reaction caused him to finally caused him to look over his shoulder and he spotted Granger standing like a statue and staring at Agent Dunbar. Feeling a little claustrophobic stuck between the two, Don moved out of their way and quipped, "Guess you know Agent Granger?"

"_AGENT_?" The NCIS agent's tone was accusatory as she glared at Granger.

"Yes. You weren't exactly honest either, _AGENT Dunbar_." The heat in Granger's voice and the expression on the two faces … Don looked over at Reeves and Sinclair and saw the same confusion in their faces as they caught on to what was happening between their teammate and the NCIS agent.

"Well, Agent Granger, that could be because I'm not in the habit of telling guys I'm thinking about dating that I'm a federal investigator for the US Department of the Navy."

"What makes you think I tell everyone I meet in a library that I'm an FBI Agent?"

Don caught Megan's attention and mouthed '_library?_' to her only to have her shrug like she was just as lost as he was. Realizing there was a lingering moment of silence between the two bickering agents, Don stepped back into the fray. "Agent Dunbar, while I'm sure you and my agent have a few - personal - issues to work through, can we work out who's case and scene this is before you do that?"

The growl that escaped the woman's throat wasn't pretty, but she turned her flashing eyes back on him and Don suddenly felt sorry for Granger. If, by not doing a full disclosure with this woman, Colby had somehow killed his chances with her, he was going to kick himself for a long, long time. "I'll make you a deal, Agent Eppes." Dunbar said, as a feral-like grin crossed her face.

"What's that?" He was pretty sure he wasn't going to like this….

"You've notified a coroner's wagon, right?" He nodded to confirm her question. "Good, then whichever coroner's wagon gets here first, gets the body and the case."

"Sounds fair enough to me. Where's the DB?"

"Follow me." Dunbar led the way back the way she'd come and up and over a rise in the land, Don trusted the others to follow him and didn't look back, and once he reached the top of a small ravine and looked down at the badly decomposed body, he was glad he hadn't eaten lunch. Dunbar pointed to the one man dressed in the uniform of Park Services, standing off to the side and out of the way of her team, and started to introduce people. "Ranger Sean Kicklighter was nice enough to led the way into the sight and also happens to be the person who was lucky enough to find our dead Squid." She pointed to another gentleman, this one actually taking physical measurements of the scene, who looked to be quite a few years older than Dunbar, "Agent Rick Stringfield." Then she pointed to a woman so young looking that Don was having a hard time believing she was out of high school, let alone a Federal Agent of any description. "Agent Sunshine Keynes. Probie."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Yelena was walking the perimeter of the scene, approximately 100 yards out from the body, looking for anything that might be potential evidence and trying not to gloat. However, she wasn't sure she'd be able to remove the smile from her face for a long time. It wasn't often that NCIS-West, or its agents could one-up the Federal Bureau of Investigation and, yet, that is exactly what she had managed to do. Twenty minutes after she had struck her deal with Special Agent Eppes, Lenny and Mouse had pulled up in the NCIS coroner's van and, from the expression on his face, Eppes knew he'd been 'had' by a lowly Naval investigator.

She had guessed her coroner was going to beat the one called up from Los Angeles and used that supposition to trick Eppes into letting the arrival time of the first meat wagon decide which agency was going to handle the case. Her mentor back in Washington DC would've been proud of the way Yelena had handled the senior FBI Agent

Yelena had hovered close to Eppes, basically being a nuisance rather than telling the man anything truly helpful and, if she was honest, she was also avoiding Granger. When the rooster-tail of dust was spotted on the horizon, she and Eppes had turned hopeful eyes toward it and she had removed her sunglasses to watch the approaching vehicle until she was sure it was, indeed, her van. Slipping the eyeglasses back onto her face, she watched Eppes until he realized the van belonged to NCIS and then she just added insult to injury by smiling at the Febbie.

"Sorry, Agent Eppes. All's fair in love, war and interagency rivalries, right?"

"Yeah, right."

And with that blunt sentence and the snide tone in his voice, Special Agent Don Eppes had turned the scene over to Yelena Dunbar's team, but stuck around to 'render assistance if needed.' Which Yelena thought was very chivalrous of the FBI to offer.

Yelena had spotted what could have been a drag mark on the sandy surface of a otherwise smooth surface of a rock outcrop and had hunkered down to photograph it, when her name being screamed out in a terrified tone made her drop the Minolta 35mm camera.

"Agent DUNBAR!"

Staying low, her sidearm cleared its holster and Yelena was scanning the horizon for any and all potential threats before she realized it was Agent Keynes who'd screamed. Most of the agents in the area were down hill and closer to the body than Yelena, but that also put her nearer to where Keynes was standing - unnaturally still - approximately 250 feet to the east of the body and only 30 yards from where Yelena squatted with her Springfield 1911 clenched in both hands.

Moving forward, slowly and at an oblique angle to where Sunshine was standing, Yelena was surprised to catch movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to identify if the movement belonged to a threat or a potential ally. She was surprised to see Agent Granger moving in perfect tactical counter to her own approach as she kept scanning the area for whatever had set Sunshine off.

She and Granger were within five feet of Keynes' location and still hadn't spotted anything to warrant the kind of alarm the Probie had sent up. "Sunny, what the hell is it?" The young agent finally moved, her right hand slowly motioning at a patch of ground near her feet. "Damn. Snake?" The girl shook her head. "Scorpion?" The ones in that could be found in this section of desert could be deadly, but the young agent again moved her head in a negative fashion. Curious and more than a little concerned, Yelena looked over at Granger to make sure he was covering her before moving in to see what her agent was pointing at. Dropping even lower to the ground, actually belly crawling, she moved in the last five feet and cautiously peered down and over the sandstone ridge behind which Sunshine was standing. What she saw did not please her, nor would it thrill the FBI team.

"Oh, that's just … _great_." Yelena was looking at the chest cavity of a very desiccated body, which, somehow, Sunshine Keynes had managed to stick her foot into. "Clear!" She called out, motioning for Sunshine not to move even as she waved Granger over. "Your boss may have a case here after all, Granger."

He'd holstered his sidearm, but did not secure it, as he approached and looked down into the small cleft where the body had been stuffed and hidden, before Agent Keynes' foot found it. "Damn. A second body; just what every investigator wants to find a crime scene." Yelena tried not to laugh at the sarcasm in Granger's voice as he knelt down close to Sunshine's side, pulling a mini-MagLite from his pocket to peer into the crevice. "Yeap, that's a human body all right. Agent Keynes, please don't move." He stood up and let out a shrill whistle that made Yelena's ears hurt but did wonders for grabbing the attention of the group of FBI and NCIS Agents who had remained near the first discovery and he waved for them to join him.

Agent Sinclair and Agent Eppes approached, leaving Agent Reeves behind with Stringfield, Goldblum and Doctor Meese. "What'cha got, Colby?" Sinclair asked as he walked up the slight incline.

"Another body." Granger turned to her, his hazel eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, but Yelena still felt them bore into her. "Don't let her move," he indicated Sunshine. "I need to grab a kit from the boss's car."

"Right. Like I don't have anything else to do here, Granger." She muttered at his retreating back, even as she moved in closer to Sunshine and put a supporting arm around the young agent's waist. "Sunny, you heard the nice Febbie, don't you move."

"You really don't like the FBI, do you, Agent Dunbar?" Sunshine asked in a very quiet voice, but from the way Eppes' head snapped up from where he was observing the scene, Yelena knew he'd heard.

"It's a genetic thing, Probie. When we get back to post, I might tell you."

"Genetic?" Eppes asked, his tone incredulous as he moved in real close on Sunshine's other side so he could see how the young woman had stuck her foot in the chest of a dead body. "How can dislike for a federal agency be genetic?"

"It's easy … you learn from your Mentor who has a dislike for anything and anyone that didn't wear Marine blue." Yelena answered, not entirely truthfully but close enough for this conversation. "Eppes, any idea what Granger went to get out of your car?"

"Probably the kit he built up a few months back after realizing we didn't have always have access to a forensic anthropologist or archaeologist."

"What?"

Eppes straightened up from his inspection, gave Sunshine a friendly pat on the shoulder and a sweet smile. "We'll get you out of that mess shortly, Agent Keynes." He turned to face Yelena again. "Granger has some not insubstantial skills at body recovery and there have been times where we needed those skills. So I found a few spare dollars in my budget and told him to build a field kit."

Yelena shook her head, not quite believing what Agent Eppes was telling her. "How does an FBI field agent gain skills like that? Last I read, it's not exactly listed as part of the curriculum at Quantico."

"It's not." Granger's voice drifted up from behind her and Yelena turned around to see him hauling a fairly large pack, complete with shovels and a couple of PVC pipes and a roll of what looked like screen-mesh strapped to the sides, up the incline. "But you gain the experience pretty fast when you work grave detail in Petrovo Selo."

She nodded, understanding exactly what Granger was saying, even if Eppes and Sinclair didn't. "Try Srebrenica in '96 … that was a whole lot of Not Fun."

"Wait a minute--" Agent Sinclair waved a hand, catching her attention. "I may not know what Colby meant by Petro-slo-whatever, but Srebrenica? Are you referring to the mass graves that were found all around that city, Agent Dunbar?"

Yelena wasn't even really looking at Sinclair, her mind was too busy spitting memories of poorly buried, dumped and otherwise desecrated bodies of the men, women and children she'd helped unearth back in 1996. The North Atlantic Treaty Organization had called in all sorts of military investigational teams from all of the NATO allies when the first reports of mass graves had started pouring in. At first the military entities were needed because it was considered too dangerous to send in any of the civilian recovery teams but, now, civilian teams were carrying out the on going investigations with minimal NATO presence.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone touched her on the elbow, breaking her chain of thought - for which Yelena was actually grateful. She turned slightly to see it was Granger who had come up beside her and was now gently holding onto her arm.

"You okay, 'Lena?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, CeeJay. Thanks." She stepped away from him and waved Eppes out of the way as she moved in close to Sunshine's side and answered Sinclair's question at the same time. "Yes. I'm talking about the mass burial incidents around that once lovely little town, Agent Sinclair."

She smiled at Keynes and, after dropping back down to her stomach near where Sunshine had put her foot through the ribcage of some poor unlucky soul, did her best to reassure her agent. "Sunny, sounds to me like you got lucky after all. There's two people here who know how to keep you from crushing anymore evidence - not that you meant to, I know - and who can preserve the body you're standing in enough so Mouse won't chew your hide."

"I'll be the judge of that, Agent Dunbar." Yelena nodded and moved aside as Dr. Michael Meese finally found his way up the hill to the new body and dropped down to his knees on the other side of Keynes to peer into the crevice himself. "This poor bastard's been out here a while. He's damn near mummified from the heat and dry conditions. Do be careful getting her foot out of his chest and him out of the hole, will you, Dunbar?" Meese stood back up and brushed sand off his dark tan Dockers. "I'd like to have something to possibly identify him off of when I get him back to my lab." Then, instead of offering to stay around and help, the medical examiner strolled back down to the previous scene, whistling a rather dirty sea chanty.

"Gee, thanks, Mouse!" Yelena yelled after the departing man, then turned her attention back to Granger. "You got this for a few minutes? I need to go finish up what I was doing before I can help you. That is, if you want the assistance?"

"Yeah, I could probably use it." Granger had started to unpack the kit and arranged the various tools and instruments around the scene. "Go finish what you were doing though, it'll take a little bit for me to decide how best to extract Sunny's foot from John Doe's chest."

Yelena just nodded, then got to her feet. After brushing by both of Granger's co-workers, she headed back to where she'd dropped the camera. It wasn't until she was picking up the broken, but now obsolete thanks to digital technology, piece of equipment that it occurred to her than both she and Granger had used each other's more 'familiar' nicknames. In front of others.

"Oh, great."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Don motioned for Sinclair to return to the primary site and, thus, silently gave the Agent the task of catching Reeves up on what had happened … if Meese hadn't already done so. He waited until David was out of easy earshot before turning to Granger and approached Agent Keynes' side again. "So, Granger, how long before you can help Agent Sunny here out of her predicament?"

Granger just shook his head. "Depends on how stuck she is. If I can help her remove the chest from her foot without further damage to the corpse and if I really have everything I need to extricate the body."

"About ten minutes, then?"

Don relaxed a bit when Granger let out a small chuckle, the agent had been way too tense since finding out his date of the previous week was a NCIS Agent. "Yeah, about ten minutes. Give or take five."

The next few minutes passed in relative silence, Don didn't want to disturb Granger's concentration and, apparently, neither did Agent Keynes. Finally, Granger looked up at the young NCIS agent and Don and gave a very reassuring smile. "Okay, I've got the plan. Don, you're going to help Sunny keep her balance while she does exactly what I tell her, all right?" Don just nodded in agreement then Granger turned his gaze back to Keynes. "Sunny, I need you to absolutely trust me and not to help me while I guide your foot out of the hole it has made it's way into. Got that?"

Don could feel Keynes' body start to tremble and he wasn't sure if it was from fatigue, relief or if the young woman was about to burst into tears. He heard someone kick loose a couple of stones and looked back toward the first potential crime scene to see Agent Rick Stringfield coming up the slope. "Hey, hey, Sunny-girl, what did you go and step in this time?"

"Oh, Rick! Agent Dunbar's going to toss me out of NCIS for sure after this!"

"Oh, I doubt that, Sunny-girl." Agent Stringfield motioned for Don to move out of the way and he took up supporting Sunshine Keynes on that side while Don stood by to catch one, or both of them should Keynes simply collapse after Granger got her unstuck. Stringfield did his best to reassure the younger agent. "Tell you a secret, Sunny … Dunbar's all bark and no bite. Well, no. That's not exactly true. Her bite is bad, but she never bites unless you really, really need it."

Don looked back down to see how Granger was doing, and was surprised to see him slowly lifting the NCIS agent's foot out of the hole, one miniscule movement at a time while Stringfield was talking to Keynes.

"But she's been so damn mad at me since she came back--"

"Hush, Sunny. No talking out of class, remember?" Don could see that whatever Keynes had been about to say had caught Granger's attention, but that hadn't stopped him from slowly removing her foot from the corpse even as Stringfield keep on talking. "Yes, you screwed up at the first scene she worked with you and, yes, you screwed up the paperwork on the arrest from that case and, yes, you've gone and put your foot in a corpse - literally - on this case, but that doesn't mean Dunbar's going to kick you out of NCIS. She's got clout, I'll grant you that, but not _that much_ clout. If she sends you back to the Academy, the assignment coordinator there will just rotate you to another team."

"You really think so, Rick?" Don winced, Keynes' tone of voice had gone from ultimate despair to guarded optimism in a very short span of time but after hearing about her screw-ups, Don was pretty sure Dunbar was about to kick the young woman all the way back to the East Coast. If she'd been one of his probation Agents and had screwed up that good, he would've kicked the agent back to Quantico personally.

"Yeah, don't you worry about it, kiddo. Now … look down, Sunny."

Stringfield's words caused both Keynes and Don to peer down to where Granger knelt next to the crevice, only to see that he'd managed to get her foot completely free of the cadaver while the older NCIS agent had been yakking away.

Granger smiled up at Keynes as she fairly danced away from the body, then came back to give him a quick hug, before she turned back to Agent Stringfield. "I should probably finish my perimeter search, huh?"

"That would be a good idea, Sunny. Why do you head that-a-way," Don couldn't help but notice that Stringfield pointed in the opposite direction from where Dunbar had been last seen. "And when you're done, we can help Lenny and Doc Meese bag up the first deader. Okay?"

The youthful Agent nodded in agreement, then damn near ran off in the direction Stringfield had indicated. The older agent then turned to Granger. "Thanks for helping out there, Granger. You gonna need any help with this poor bloke?"

"Nah. I think Dunbar's planning on helping me, once she gets back."

"She'll be back. But don't be surprised if she kinda-- well, just understand, Srebrenica kinda messed with all of us who worked the trenches."

Granger stood up and shook the hand of the NCIS Agent. "Trust me, I know. Petrovo Selo might not have been as bad … but it was bad enough. You might want to go check on Keynes. She's not feeling it now, but I'm pretty sure she twisted her ankle when she came down on the spine of mister John Doe here. I noticed it was already swelling when I lifted her foot out."

"Will do. Thanks again, Granger."

Don watched as Stringfield took off after Keynes and as Granger dropped back down to sit next to the crevice and just stare at the remains now clearly visible now that Keynes' body wasn't in the way. He squatted on his haunches next to his agent. "You going to be able to handle this, Granger?"

"Yeah, Bosnia-Herzegovina was bad, but after that, this will be damn near a walk in the park."

"You sure about that?" Don asked, only to get a silent answer as Granger nodded in agreement. "Then why don't you tell me how you managed to call Dunbar by what could only be a pet-name and how in the hell she knew yours? _CeeJay_?"

"What?" The stunned looked on Granger's face almost made Don laugh. Almost. But he restrained himself and decided that there was a chance that neither Granger nor Dunbar had been aware of the slip when it happened.

"It happened right after you mentioned Bosnia, and she'd mentioned Srebrenica and kinda flaked out. You called her '_Lena_."

"Oh man … damn. Don, can you just forget you heard that?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't the only one to see and hear that little exchange between you two. David and that Keynes girl heard it too." Don couldn't help but notice Granger's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Hey, I'll ask David not to mention it, but I got to know … how long have you two been dating without being 100 truthful about what you did for a living?"

"This Saturday would've been a week."

"A week? And already using nicknames?" Don shook his head and clasped Granger on the back. "Colby, you either work _very_ fast or there's something between the two of you that you shouldn't let die. Work on it or you may regret letting it slip through your fingers."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Colby stared after Don, watching the senior agent carefully work his way back down the rocky slope of the hill and trying not to scuff his dress shoes. His advice about there being something between himself and Yelena Dunbar wasn't exactly amiss, but Colby hadn't allowed himself to think about it since seeing her when his team arrived on the scene. Dunbar also had seemed to want to put distance between them and he wasn't sure if it was because of their little 'issue' of not being truthful with each other or if she was trying to maintain a professional distance. Then Keynes had - literally - stepped into another case and scared a few months off his life when she had screamed Yelena's name.

Thinking back on the incident, mentally reviewing each move Yelena had made, Colby realized she had the same sort of tactical training he had and that they'd eased into tandem teamwork effortlessly. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to the puzzle before him; how to extricate the remains from the crevice without losing any potential evidence, either on the body or around it.

First things first, he turned back to the pack of tools and unstrapped the eight lengths of PVC pipe and a small roll of rabbit wire and another roll of aluminum window screening and started to put the items together into a couple of sifting screens. That done, he set them aside and pulled out a two-foot by two-foot piece of tarpaulin and only then reached for the undersized shovel and rakes he kept in the tool kit. He worked, carefully, around where he thought the body would've lain before Mother Nature had done her thing, removing sand and debris and placing it on the tarp to be sifted through later. He was reaching for another implement from the pack when the soft-bristled paintbrush was placed in his hand.

"Thanks." Colby responded without looking up, pretty sure it was Sinclair who'd snuck up on him as David had worked with him once before on a body recovery and probably had just guessed which brush he'd wanted.

"No problem."

He nearly jumped out of his skin at hearing Yelena's voice so close to his ear and ended up spinning around on the balls of his feet, only to damn near fall into the crevice. Dunbar, however, was fast enough and strong enough to reach out, grab his shoulders and keep him from totally fouling the evidence.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, Granger." She held on to his shoulders until he'd regained his footing and stood up.

"Yeah, well--" He stopped. Not exactly sure why except that meeting Dunbar's blue-gray eyes made his heart skip another beat. Thankfully, it was Yelena who dropped eye contact first rather than Colby and he was able to think straight once more.

She gestured to the contents of the pack he'd strewn around the site. "Interesting gear, Granger. Rather clever way to build sift-screens." Colby stepped aside, but not too far, as she came back over and dropped to a squat beside the nearly skeletal remains. "This is going to be a bitch." She looked back up over her shoulder at him and Colby had to fight to remain professional. "How long do you think it'll take to extricate the poor sap, Granger?"

He let out a frustrated noise as he crouched down beside her. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was FBI before today. Can we just go back to calling each other by our first names?"

If he hadn't been watching her out of the corner of his eye, Colby would've missed the slight blush rising to her face, making the lightly tanned skin glow even more than the desert heat. "I'm the one who should apologize, Colby. I have been holding a grudge against you all day for doing exactly what I had done - hiding your profession. So, yeah, I guess if you can stomach it, I can too and we can go back to being friendly again."

"Good." Colby tested her resolve by leaning into her a bit and was pleasantly surprised when she didn't pull or push him away. "Now, to answer your question, 'Lena … If there was enough room to work side-by-side or even get a third person up here to help sift sand, we _might_ get finished in five to six hours."

Yelena looked to the sky where the sun was already on the fast slide downward to the west. "Except there's not enough room and we only have about four to five hours of sunlight left. Which, unless I'm severely mistaken, means someone will have to bivouac here with the body and resume digging operations at first light. Unless your boss can convince your FBI forensic team to drive up here in the dark?" The expression on her face, when she turned back to face him, was decidedly challenging.

Colby snorted. "Ha! Not a chance. We've got a damn good forensic crew, but I am pretty sure there ain't a one of them who's a night-critter. They'll be lucky to make it here, especially considering how remote this spot is, before nine in the morning." He stood up and let his gaze wander around the area, looking for a good place to hole up over night with just water, a flashlight and his sidearm to make sure nothing disturbed the site before morning. "There's a good spot over that way--" He stopped as Yelena got up, whistled shrilly and then used a set of hand signals he'd never seen before to relay a message to her team down below. "What was that about?"

Her smile was infectious and totally not worth a damn as an answer.

He watched as Stringfield waved an acknowledgement, then walked over to the camouflaged Humvee the NCIS team had arrived in and removed a rather large and rather purple and tan backpack before strolling over to where Colby's boss and teammates were observing Dr. Meese handle the recovery of the previous body. When Stringfield finally made his way up the slope, Don was right behind him.

"What's this Stringfield tells me about camping out here with the body, Granger?" Don asked as he topped the rise and walked over to where Colby and Yelena were standing.

"It's simple, Eppes." Yelena answered. "Other than myself and Granger, and maybe Doctor Meese, who else here has the skills to handle body recoveries like this?"

"No one that I know of, but that's why we have a crack forensic team and we can have them out here in the morning."

"Don, she's got a point. We've moved the body around, stirred up odors and attractors that the local wildlife isn't going to be able to ignore. Someone's going to have to stay here and keep 'em off the body." Colby explained.

"There's no way you two can get the body out of there before nightfall?"

Colby shook his head. "No, even if we had two other people helping out by running the sifting screens, Don. There's only room for one person to work on clearing the body, which leaves one to sort through the sand and debris for potential evidence and that leaves any extra bodies for holding flashlights or something."

"Besides," Stringfield spoke up, "we're kinda used to Dunbar taking all of our overnight stuff. She rarely lets anyone else handle such things."

Don grinned. "Control freak?" His question was gentle, but Colby winced in sympathy for Yelena anyway.

"No. Insomniac." Yelena took the pack from Stringfield, dropped it on the ground and opened it up. After digging in it for a few minutes, she stood up and nailed Don with a look that brooked no argument. "When the teams are ready to leave, leave behind one of the collapsible coolers and the water. We'll need it."

Colby nodded and noticed that Don had too. "Dunbar, I'll grant you the 'fact' that the body down there is clearly your team's responsibility … since there's a chance that this one will be a civilian and, therefore, an FBI matter, do you still want to be involved as lead team?"

Yelena stood up fast and - there was no other word for it - _invaded_ Don's personal space. "Eppes, you are not taking the Squid out of my team's hands unless I'm dead. Got that?" Don nodded and backed away from Yelena, who wasn't finished. "As for _this_ body … if it turns out to be a civilian, it's all yours and you can just thank NCIS for 'assisting' your case by extricating the body for you."

"All right, all right … I get your point. Sheesh, Dunbar. Are you always this nice with agents from other Agencies?"

"This? Eppes, this is friendly. You should see me when I butt heads with Army CID and Air Force OSI."

Colby didn't miss the look that Don shot his way and he understood why his boss looked a little worried. Yeah, he was going to have to do a full-disclosure with Yelena and hope like hell she wouldn't hold his past in CID against him. Don plunged ahead, "Fine, I'm thankful you're being nice, Dunbar. Let me return the favor … since the two cases, the one here and the one your ME is finally bagging, might be related, I'd like to extend an offer for Doctor Meese to use our facilities in LA. Unless you think it'll be contaminated just by being in the presence of a FBI-Certified Medical Examiner?"

Yelena looked over at him and Colby gave her a quick nod. What Don was offering was pretty generous, especially if the NCIS medical examiner had a lab similar to what he'd had to work around in the Army. The blue-gray gaze slid from Colby and returned to Don as Yelena stepped back and stuck out her hand. "Deal, Eppes. Mouse will probably be insufferable after working with a full lab for a change, but I'll handle that."

Colby was a little startled when Yelena abruptly turned back to the backpack Stringfield had brought up, effectively dismissing Don without actually saying anything. Don was shaking his head as he looked over at Colby. "Good luck, Granger. Something tells me you're going to need it." He was heading back downhill before Colby could even think of a possible retort.

Stringfield held out something to him and Colby took it, only to realize it was one of the more current radios being used by military forces. "Use freak Seven-Eight-Zulu if you run into any trouble. There are night training flights set up for tonight and this weekend for the Logistical Battalions out of both Camp Pendleton and Twenty-Nine Stumps. The radio operators have been told to listen for emergency squawks but you'll have to set up an L-Z if you run into trouble." And with that, he was gone down the hill, leaving Colby and Yelena alone. Well, almost.

"How much do you want to bet that our teammates down there are already placing bets on which one of us is still going to be alive come sunrise?"

Colby shook his head. "No doubt in my mind. After all, we have been snarling at each other when we weren't totally ignoring the other."

He watched, a little stunned, as Yelena finally striped off the black leather vest she'd been wearing over her white polo shirt and dark gray Docker-like pants. There really hadn't been a reason for her to keep the vest on over her holster and sidearm, but Colby figured it was part of her 'uniform' and that he understood. After all, his daily office wear consisted of either suits, sport jackets and slacks or (rarely) Dockers and jeans under a FBI golf or tee shirt. "You want body or sand sift first?" He asked as she took the time to pull a white bandana out of the side pocket of the backpack and tied it over her head.

"Sand sift. I'll spell you after 30 minutes or whenever you need to get back up on your feet."

The first twenty minutes passed by in companionable silence, the routine only broken when David Sinclair and Megan Reeves hauled the cooler with its 28 bottles of water up to their position. Reeves had actually gone so far as to ask Yelena, politely of course, not to kill Colby because she didn't want to have to break in another rookie. Yelena just smiled and assured Megan that Colby was safe and, if he wasn't, there was no way the FBI would be able to find her if she didn't want to be found.

Somehow, Colby was pretty sure Yelena wasn't kidding.


	2. Chapter 2

See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

**Part Two**

Don handled the drive back to the entrance of the park, fully intending to let one of the others take over from there, and wondered just how 'smart' it might have been to leave his agent alone with a woman, albeit a fellow federal agent, who seemed to regret having spent any time with that particular FBI agent.

"Megan, I know you were joking when you asked Agent Dunbar not to kill Colby…"

"Was I? David, did you not see their body language?" Megan asked as she turned in the front seat to face Sinclair in the back a little easier.

"Yeah, I saw it. Read it as merely '_tense_' - was there more to it than what I saw?" Don nodded, one thing Sinclair had always been good at was adding more skills, or honing them when he was already experienced, to his résumé.

"Don, what do you think?"

He'd not been expecting to be pulled into the conversation, but since he had been, Don did his best to answer the behaviorist's question. "I think we saw what can happen when two federal cops, who just happen to start dating under circumstances outside the realm of law enforcement, don't tell each other what they do for a living."

"Well, d'uh." Megan quipped. "David, your assessment?"

Don looked up to watch David's face in the rearview mirror as the younger agent responded. "Let me put it this way … if those two can work past that little faux pas, and it's a doozie, then there's a chance that Agent Dunbar may just be a little too much for Colby to handle and we'll end up picking up the pieces."

Megan nodded in agreement with David, but Don shook his head as he guided the SUV along the barely discernable, barely drivable, park road. "I don't know about that. Yeah, they pretty much accused each other of hiding their professions from each other, and then proceeded to avoid each other at the scene. However, did either one of you notice how well they moved in tandem when Agent Keynes let out that scream?" He waited a few minutes, listening for the breathing of the other two to change ever so slightly, before continuing. "So you did notice. Good. I've seen very few people, even agents who've trained together for years, sync up that quickly and efficiently. So if, after only a week of seeing each other, those two are already coordinating like that--" He shrugged instead of finishing the thought, leaving the other two to draw their own conclusions.

David snorted in disbelief. "Right. You heard Dunbar - her mistrust, hatred, what-have-you for our agency seems to be genetically ingrained. There's no way she's going to forgive and forget that little omission from Granger."

Don decided to ignore David's remarks, but Reeves apparently wasn't going to let things lie there and picked up on the challenge just as Don turned onto state highway 195 - that cut through the national park - and headed south toward Interstate 10. When he climbed the access ramp onto the Ten, the two were placing bets and trying to get Don to join in. Megan was thinking the relationship would at least get started but then end after a few weeks. David, on the other hand, thought there was a good chance the team would be picking up little pieces of Granger and swearing out a warrant for Agent Dunbar come morning. Don, however, was sure the relationship would work out. Maybe because he recalled how unstable his own, current, relationship had started out.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

"Mike, did the boss seem a little more tense than usual at the scene to you?" Leonard Goldblum asked of Doctor Michael Meese as they followed the FBI team out of the park with the intention of following them all the way to their offices in Los Angeles.

"Lenny, you've worked with Yelena for what? Six years now?" Goldblum nodded. "So you know how she feels about the Federal Bureau of Investigations and why. I'm sure that's all that was bothering her at the scene. After all, she did seem to relax once Rick took the bivouac kit up to her."

Goldblum shook his head. "You know, that's one thing I never understood … if the powers that be at NCIS headquarters knew training officers - like the one Dunbar had - instilled their personal disdain for other federal agencies into their trainees, why do they keep assigning him new recruits?"

"Because despite that one little issue, he's the best at teaching intensive investigative skills and for shaking out which ones have the stones to be field agents and which ones need to be kept out of the field."

"Well, that's one skill he passed on to Dunbar in spades … I think after this case, she's going to send Keynes packing."

Meese nodded. "Oh yes. Most definitely. The poor girl might be a crack academic, but she's a walking disaster in the field. If Sunny hadn't been foisted on us a full two months before Yelena was due to come back from the Stennis Group, she wouldn't have lasted past the initial interview stage."

"I'm surprised Rick didn't show Sunny the door when she showed up. He was in charge for the five months Dunbar was exiled on sea tour."

"Probably didn't want to ruin Yelena's '_fun_' … watch it!"

Goldblum stepped on the breaks, then maneuvered to regain his close distance on Eppes' SUV as the FBI agent spun gravel and debris out from under his tires as he exited Joshua Tree National Park and jumped up on the Interstate. "Man drives like Dunbar, Doc. Sorry about that."

"No worries. You didn't hit him." Meese looked out his side mirror to see that Rick Stringfield and Agent Sunshine Keynes were still behind them. "And you avoided getting smacked in the rear by Rick."

The drive was quiet for a little while and Meese had been close to dropping into a catnap when Leonard spoke up again. "Doc … you think Dunbar is going to be all right back there until the FBI can get a forensic team out there in the morning?"

"Are you worried about the local fauna or the FBI Agent she allowed herself to be saddled with?"

"Both."

Meese sighed. "I asked Agent Eppes about that … seems the two of them have more experience than even myself at body removal from crude graves." He pointed back out the front window when Goldblum turned to look at him. "**Do** keep your eyes on the road, Lenny!" Meese squirmed in the passenger seat and, finally, realized his seat belt was twisted and untangled it. "Anyway, Agent Granger spent some time in the Balkans, years after Yelena did, working the mass graves from the conflicts in the area. He even went so far as to build his own field kit for such things, with his boss' approval. So, yes, I think Agent Yelena will be quite all right back there. Even if she's having to put up with an FBI Agent."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Yelena had spelled Colby down in the cramped crevice and was working on clearing debris from around the deceased's upper shoulders, or what was left of them, when the first leg cramp hit. She came up out of the fissure biting her lip and trying to not to trip over her own two feet. It didn't quite work. The charley-horse got worse and she ended up toppling into Colby, who'd dropped the screen he was working with to catch her.

"'Lena, what's wrong?"

"Cramp!" She couldn't change the harsh tone of her voice and didn't resist when he helped her over to an a nearby outcropping of rock, sat her down and - after seeing which leg she was favoring - started to assist her work the cramp out of her calf.

After five minutes, the cramp finally eased up and he handed her a bottle of water as he sat down beside her. "Guess we could use a break. This is not proving to be an easy extraction."

Yelena nodded as she sipped on the water, and then closed it back up before she dived back into the purple and tan pack Stringfield had left. When she found what she was looking for, she shook two of the larger tablets out and swallowed them with a big gulp of the water. "Want some?" She asked as she showed him the bottle and it's label. He looked at it, then reached out for it and shook two tablets of his own out.

"Thanks." He flipped the container back toward her.

Catching the bottle, Yelena stuffed it back into the bivouac pack. "You're welcome. I didn't think it was bad enough out here to warrant taking them earlier, but after that cramp--"

"Better to be safe than sorry. It's not every one who carries around bottles of salt and mineral tablets, pretty smart."

"I've lived out here long enough, and love hiking the high desert so much, that being prepared has become almost second nature."

"So how come you ended up with the cramp instead of me?" Colby's tone was light and teasing and Yelena took the ribbing in the good nature in which it was intended.

"Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get you to lay hands on me?" The surprised expression on his face, a little shocked too, was worth the pain caused by the cramp and Yelena started to laugh.

"Funny, 'Lena, funny." Colby groused as he stood up and started to walk back to the crevice of the cadaver.

She reached out and managed to catch his hand before he got out of easy reach. "CeeJay … I wasn't joking." She pulled him back to their make-do bench and kept the pressure up on his arm until he sat back down beside her. "Okay, getting a cramp wasn't in the plan, but I wasn't joking about wanting your hands on me."

He shook his head. "Yelena Dunbar, you are one seriously screwy chick." He pointed over to where the body was stuffed into its makeshift grave. "We're working on prying Johnny Doe over there out of his hole and you're playing games--"

"It's no game, Granger." She interrupted him. "I will admit, my timing is off, but would you rather that I had jumped your bones in the Library that first day or wait until around now before I told you that I am seriously attracted to you and--"

It was his turn to interrupt her and he effectively shut her up by placing a kiss on her lips. She leaned into the kiss and felt his arms come up around her shoulders and pull her in closer to his body. Before she was ready to let him go, Colby ended the kiss and slowly pushed Yelena back to where she wasn't leaning so hard on his body. His right hand came up and lifted her chin with a gentle pressure so she had to look into his green-gray eyes.

"Now, we both know that as pleasant as that was, we have other things we really need to get done before sundown so … consider that a promissory taste of things that might happen, 'Lena." The half-smile that graced his face in the late afternoon light sent shudders down her spine and caused something to stir in the deepest part of her soul.

"Granger, I'm going to hold you to that." She stood up and walked back over to where John Doe was resting, undisturbed by the suddenly warmer atmosphere, and bent her mind and body back to the task at hand. Yelena could hear Colby setting back to work on the sifting screens behind her and found herself hoping the bivouac pack was one that at least had a couple of tarps. Otherwise, John Doe was going to have to risk being exposed to the elements overnight.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Once again, Colby was down in the deepening crevice, but this time he was slowly and painstakingly removing the bits and pieces of the cadaver and handing them up to Yelena who was carefully wrapping them and placing them in a smaller-than-usual body bag. They had a limited amount of daylight left, but Yelena had pulled a small battery-powered, white LED lantern from her bivouac pack and it was waiting to be switched on if they didn't finish in time. Just before the fissure was plunged into darkness, he managed to hand the last bone, the mostly intact skull, up to Yelena and she packed it away.

He accepted her offer of a hand up out of the hole after she'd finished securing the last bit of evidence. The sun was barely visible above the horizon and, back to the east, Colby spotted the first of the evening stars putting in their appearance. "What a waste."

"Excuse me?" Yelena asked from where she was unpacking something from the pack.

"The sunset. It would've been better if it was just you and I and we were out here willingly. Instead, we're working a case and it's you, me and John Doe here." Colby smiled in the deepening darkness as Yelena let out a small laugh.

"Funny, CeeJay. Shield your eyes, I found what I was after." He followed her advice and within a few seconds the area was lit with the bright white light of the camping lamp. "Now we have enough light to set up our camp."

He agreed with her, stumbling around on the rocks and sand in the dark was not his idea of fun. "You need any help with the tent?"

"Tent?" Yelena laughed again. "No tent. Not needed tonight. Just a tarp, a couple of lightweight blankets, some insect repellant and a few food supplies."

"No tent?" Colby wasn't sure how he felt about that. Even in his days in Afghanistan and Iraq, there were always tents, even if they were just the lousy two-man pop tents. He watched as she pulled out a fairly large tarp, walked over to where their natural stone bench was and spread the tarp flat. She dove back into the pack, came up with a mini-MagLite and used that to find something else, which she handed to him with a couple of clanks. It only took him a second to realize what Yelena had handed to him. A single burner camp stove. "Great. Guess I just got volunteered for KP duty?"

"Yeap. At least heat up some water." She handed him a smaller pack from inside the large tan and purple bag. "Food supplies are in there. Pick out what you want. Though I'm not sure what's in there, but there should at least be two MRE's and maybe a couple of e-rats."

Colby watched as she wandered off out of the range of the lantern with just the miniature flashlight and a small survival shovel in hand. "'Lena … I'm more than willing to handle latrine duty!" Her 'Nah, I got it' drifted up to him and he set about setting up the stove to boil the water.

Reaching for the food supply bag, he reached in and found only one MRE and two high-calorie emergency ration bars. Glancing at the label on the MRE, Colby felt his insides freeze. He didn't even hear Yelena come back into the camp area until her hand was on his shoulder and caused him to flinch.

"CeeJay, what's wrong? That MRE out of date or something equally impossible?" Her tone was light, even teasing, but he couldn't share in the humor.

"I'm all right. You want this? I just realized I'm not hungry." He tossed the MRE to her and moved to settle on the tarp with his back against the stone bench. It still surprised him how, every now and then, little things reminded him of events he thought he had put behind him.

Yelena reached down, turned the flame under the pot of water off, and then walked over to sit down beside him. "Colby, don't fib. You've been doing the lion's share of work today so I know you've got to be hungry. Something about this ready-to-eat meal in a bag put you into a funk." She laid a warm hand on his forearm, "Is it something from overseas?"

It was a nice way to ask if he was having a PTSD flash back and he was thankful he could honestly deny that. "No, nothing from my Army days … I like MREs. It's just--"

Yelena used the mini-MagLite to read the label. "It's just that you have something against Macaroni 'N Cheese mixed with dehydrated tomatoes, peppers and other things?"

He shook his head. "'Lena … I nearly died because of Mac 'N Cheese."

"You've got food allergies?"

"No, a crazy neighbor who poisoned me with arsenic."

"What?!"

"It's true. Happened about five months ago and made the national news … you sure you haven't heard about the dumb FBI agent who allowed himself to be poisoned?"

"Colby … five months ago I was at sea on the Stennis. What the hell are you talking about?"

"At sea?"

"Yes, if I explain will you _please_ tell me about this poisoned Mac 'n Cheese incident?" He was a little startled that there was someone in California based law enforcement that hadn't heard about the case against Harriet MacPherson, so he Colby agreed and Yelena launched into her explanation. "Okay, you know that JAG has a habit of embedding attorneys into large battle groups?" He nodded; Army JAG also did the same thing with their attorneys. "Well, NCIS also tends to put a field investigator on the flag ship of a battle group. I was sent to the USS John C. Stennis after she'd already put to sea because the assigned NCIS agent had to haul off and break the jaw of the flagship's CAG."

"Why would the agent do that?"

"Because his wife wrote and told him she'd been having an affair with the CAG."

Colby couldn't hold back the snicker. "Okay, I can see that. Justifiable assault."

"Right. Except the CAG and the NCIS agent had to be flown back to Diego for trial and NCIS-West had to assign another agent to the post, on a temporary basis, until Headquarters back in DC could get someone else to take their place."

"Let me guess … you got the assignment?"

"Yes, it was supposed to be for two, maybe three, weeks. Or so I was told."

Colby nodded. "They extended the assignment, didn't they?"

"Nope. A replacement agent relieved me within two weeks. However--" He had to move as Yelena switched from sitting beside him to kneeling in front of him, her face in silhouette from the lantern light. "Colby … I am on 'temporary duty assignment' to NCIS from the United State Marine Corps. I'm actually on Reserve status."

"You're a Marine?" He sat up; a little surprised that Yelena - who was clearly a feminine female - was a Teufelhund. A devil dog, as the Germans called them. Somehow, now that he'd seen her in action during an investigation, he wasn't a surprised as he thought he should've been. "Cool. You're a Marine."

"You don't mind?" He still couldn't see her face, but her tone was clearly one of shock.

"No. At least I know I will never have to worry about you being able to take care of yourself." He saw it coming, but didn't duck the friendly slap to the upper arm. "Ouch! You trying to hurt the Army, Marine?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Not yet … but I will if you don't come clean about the arsenic. Anyway, after the new NCIS agent showed up, some puke back at Marine HQ decided it was 'past time' for me to catch up on my Reservist duties and had me reassigned as a supernumerary with the Stennis' security attachment. Now, your turn, tell me about this crazy, arsenic brandishing neighbor of yours."

The lighter atmosphere of the camp disappeared as Colby told Yelena about Hattie MacPherson. How he'd never realized he was being poisoned until he woke up in the hospital and how Mad Hattie - the nickname Megan had given the woman had stuck - had done it in the name of research and was now sitting in the Federal Funny Farm in Texas.

"So, now you know how I was too blind to see how a little old lady was off her rocker and poisoning me right under my nose."

"CeeJay Granger! You quit wallowing in that loathing pool right this instant." The tone was unexpected and, if he really could stop hating himself for allowing himself to be a victim, Colby would've stopped right then. The sheer command in her voice was … impressive. "You are NOT responsible for what that old bat did to you. You said Agent Reeves, a trained profiler and behaviorist, hadn't seen what Mad Hattie was up to until she actually confessed. How in the HELL were you supposed to see it when you liked Hattie and she used that against you?"

Colby blinked, then sat back against the still warm stone. Nothing Yelena had just said was new to him, he'd been hearing the same thing, or similar, from his teammates, to his parents and siblings and even Doctor Bradford since Hattie was arrested. However, this was the first time it really sank in. He wasn't responsible. But it also didn't stop him from asking The Question. "How could I not have seen it, 'Lena?"

She leaned forward, almost curling up in his lap as she gently placed her forehead against his and her voice lowered into a soft, almost 'furry' tone. "Because she was nuts and didn't want you to see it, CeeJay. Crazy people will fuck with your head in a heartbeat and leave you wondering what the hell happened. I'm just glad she failed."

"So I am. I can honestly say I was never so scared and confused as I was when I woke up in the hospital with a tube down my throat." He felt Yelena tremble against him even as his own body shuddered at the memory. "My dad was there, I think that alone shocked and scared me more than the tube … but I was also glad to see him."

"There's nothing as calming as a parent's presence when we're sick."

"Yeah, that's true enough. Dad tried to hide it, but I think I scared ten years off his life. I know that when he took me back home to Idaho, he and mom barely let me out of their sight. Even my brothers were a little insane about me wandering off on my own." He shifted Yelena in his lap until she was laying beside him, her head cradled on his bicep. "My teammates were great too. Falling apart trying to figure out what happened to me, but everyone came through and nailed the crazy bitch to the wall."

"So why are you having trouble putting Hattie behind you, CeeJay?"

"I don't know." He held her a little closer to him, grateful for her warmth even though the desert hadn't started to lose the heat of the day yet. "Maybe I just need to work through this slowly. Doctor Bradford tells me I can't push, but I don't want this memory anymore."

Yelena's head shifted and he tried to peer through the dim lantern light at her. "You're always going to have the memory, CeeJay. Hopefully, one day, it won't piss you off as much."

"God, I hope you're right."

"Of course I'm right. You just need to learn that right now and we'll get along just fine." Her body moved a little closer to his and he felt her breath tickle his ear before she spoke again. "You know what really scares you, Agent Granger?"

"What?"

"You're worried that if you missed seeing what Hattie was up to, that you'll miss something else - maybe something more important."

Once again, Yelena's tone was soft and furry and … there was something else there; some intangible quality that caused his guts to tighten up. He decided to take a chance and moved - just a little - to turn his head and kissed her. Just as her body started to mold against his, his stomach decided it had been ignored long enough and let out a mighty rumble.

The mood was broken and, after they both laughed themselves silly, Yelena got up, rummaged through the pack for an emergency ration bar and dug up a couple of packs of Crystal Light On-The-Go and added them to two bottles of water before rejoining Colby on the tarp. They shared the e-rat bar, washing the not-quite-sawdust flavored with synthetic peanut butter so-called-food stuff down with the lemon-flavored drink before Yelena showed Colby how to scoop out a depression in the sand under the tarp for their hips.

After their bed was as ready as they could make it, Colby reached over and turned off the lantern. He then settled back down to watch the diamond-like stars move slowly across the black velvet sky, with Yelena curled in his arms.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Lenny Goldblum had followed Agent Eppes' SUV all the way from the national park into downtown Los Angeles and into the parking garage at the local FBI headquarters. Inside the garage, one of the agents, Sinclair, pointed out where he could park the van and then escorted Doctor Meese, himself and the victim to the Morgue.

The autopsy bay and offices for the medical examiners was actually, according to Doctor Claudia Gomez - maybe the 'real' reason Agent Sinclair had offered to perform escort duties, a remote office for the Los Angeles County Coroner's Office. They handled federal cases as a priority but also helped out the main Medical Examiner's staff by taking in a few city and county cases when the main morgue was overwhelmed with bodies. Doctor Claudia showed Doctor Meese to a free autopsy bay, then left to take in a new body coming in on a city case … after she apologized to Sinclair for having to 'bump' their rendezvous to a much later date.

Lenny helped Meese get the body out of the bag and onto the table before starting to explore the room. It was much nicer than the one the Marines had set up for the Doc back at Camp Pendleton and Lenny found himself fighting his own consciousness. Yes, the FBI morgue probably wouldn't miss too many of the supplies from their nice, shiny and well-organized cabinets and drawers, but in the spirit of interagency cooperation Lenny felt that thieving supplies wasn't a good way to start.

"Lenny, I could use your assistance here, if you don't mind?" Meese called out from where he stood over the body, scalpel in one hand and the other, apparently, already inside the cadaver.

He grabbed a disposable surgical gown from a box near the doorway, a pair of gloves from a counter top dispenser and a pair of shoe covers before getting too close to the table. "Mike, you do remember that I'm not trained in this sort of thing, right?"

"Yes, yes." Meese waved him over, then grabbed his hand and used it like a retractor on the victim's ribcage. "Hold that right there … there's something I need to ask Doctor Gomez for." The Navy Doctor sped from the room just then, leaving Lenny holding a ribcage by a rib and the bottom part of the sternum.

His hand was just beginning to spasm a little when Meese returned with what looked like bolt cutters. "What are you going to use those for, Mike?" The answer became all too obvious when the doc reached into the body with the working end of the cutters, positioned them carefully on a rib and snapped the bone in half.

"Just a few more to go and then you can lift the breast plate out, Lenny."

The NCIS agent had two choices; ignore the glee in Meese's voice and try not to puke or just swear vengeance on the medical examiner for doing this to him. Lenny swallowed the bile rising in his throat and started to breath through his mouth and smiling like a loon. After all, smiling, he had heard, dampened the gag-reflex.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Rick Stringfield and Sunny Keynes made it back to Camp Pendleton before sundown and after he had insisted on taking her by the dispensary to have her ankle checked out - it had swollen up to the size of a softball on the drive back to base - Sunny sat at her desk, chewing on a thumbnail. Rick had gone over to the nearest mess hall to grab some dinner for the two of them, but she wanted to have something to show him when he came back. So she propped her leg up on a trash can, to keep the ankle elevated like the medic told her to, and started typing in what little she knew about Seaman First Class Ignacio Ramirez. That had been the name, and she had a service number too, printed on the dogtags on the first dead body so she decided that was probably who they were dealing with, at least until and unless Doctor Meese came up with someone different.

When Rick came back with a couple of Styrofoam containers and two bottles of soda, Sunny had found Ramirez's service records and had put them up on the large plasma screen as well as printed them out. "Rick … I think I've found our dead squid." She explained as the senior agent handed her the container holding her tuna salad sandwich and chips.

"Already? Sunny-girl, I wasn't even gone fifteen minutes… show me." He sat down on her desk, already pulling his sandwich out and munching on it even as he turned to look at the plasma screen behind her.

"It's not confirmed - that will depend on Doctor Meese - but according to the doctor's preliminary estimate for Time of Death, this very well could be the right man." She grabbed her soda, took a swig from the bottle, then continued. "Ramirez was to have reported for duty on the Reagan 10 days ago, only he didn't and his CO put out the AWOL squawk on him." She grabbed her notebook from the scene off her desk, flipped a couple of pages back, looked at her notes and nodded. "Yeah, see here?" she handed Rick the book, "Meese estimated our John Doe Squid has been dead about 10-12 days … if it _is_ Ramirez--" she didn't finish, just let her sentence end there with sort of a leading trail off.

Rick smiled at her as he finished chewing, took a drink from his own Pepsi and then really grinned at her. "Probie, I think you may be on to something here. Send that report to Eppes' team and ask them to get it to Meese. You may have to rethink that whole 'Dunbar's going to get rid of me' thing … work like this, done on your own initiative, is exactly what she's looking for in a future NCIS field agent."

Sunny just stared at Rick as he got up off her desk, taking his dinner with him back to his own desk, not quite sure if she believed his words of encouragement. Shaking herself out of her reverie, Sunny dug into her pocket for the business card Agent Eppes had handed her, found the email address printed on there, but opted to call instead. After all, if she wanted to be sure Meese got the report tonight, then she had to fax it directly to wherever the doctor was. Or at least make sure Leonard Goldblum was around to hand-carry the report from Eppes' fax machine to Doctor Meese.

The phone rang four times before a slight click sounded over the line and someone other than Agent Eppes picked up. _"FBI Los Angeles, Agent Eppes isn't available at the moment, how else can I direct your call?"_

"Is Agent Reeves or Sinclair available? This is Agent Keynes from NCIS-West at Camp Pendleton calling."

_"One moment, Agent."_ The female voice asked nicely before putting her on hold. A few seconds later, the voice was back. _"Agent Keynes? I'm sorry, it looks like all three agents are … wait a minute. Okay, Reeves and Eppes just checked back in. Let me switch you back to his phone."_

"Thank you." Sunny said, but was pretty sure the woman hadn't heard her before routing her call back to Eppes' phone.

_"Eppes!"_

"Agent Eppes, Sunny Keynes. Sorry to call you before you had a chance to settle, but do you know where I could fax a report for Doctor Meese to look at?" The FBI agent rattled off a long string of numbers that Sunny wrote down before asking one other question. "Thanks, do you have a reliable printer that will print out a clear copy of a ten-card?" Eppes rattled off an email account and promised that if he had to, he'd bother the I.T. Techs for a decent printer if it would lead to confirming who the dead sailor was.

Sunny thanked the FBI agent for the information and promised to fax the file ASAP and include the fingerprint ten-card. She hung up, turned back to grab the file she'd printed out, only to see Rick smiling at her. "What?!"

"Careful, Sunny-girl. You may have just stumbled into your area of expertise for NCIS." He stood up from his desk and wandered off down the hall, leaving Sunny wondering what the senior agent meant. Shrugging, she got up to walk over to the fax machine, only to hiss as the pain from her sprained ankle shot up her leg, forcing her to sit back down. Since she was the only person in the office, she felt no shame in using her office chair like a wheelchair and rolled over to the fax machine. She added the ten-card to the stack as an afterthought, then pushed back to her desk to send the electronic file to Eppes.

That done, she got up and hopped - one-legged - over to Rick's desk to take a look at the Minolta camera that Agent Dunbar had dropped. Sunny was removing the film canister when Rick came back. "Don't bother trying to repair that old thing, Dunbar's been trying to trash it for at least four years. Now she can get the Canon film camera she's been lusting after."

Sunny nodded, put the film in her pocket and then, without thinking, dumped the camera in the trashcan beside Stringfield's desk. "Whoops!"

Rick shook his head and started to laugh, even as he pulled the camera back out of the can. "Can't toss it yet, Probie. We've got to show the damage to Headquarters before the bean counters will approve our getting a new one." He placed the camera back on his desk. "But I like the way you think."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

After dropping Sinclair off in the garage so he could lead the NCIS Medical Examiner and Agent Goldstein to the morgue, Don and Reeves had headed up to their desks on the 14th floor. Don waited until he and Megan were the only ones on the elevator before he started to talk. "Can you believe that Dunbar? I realize the first body is, by her definitions, under her jurisdiction, but the second one?"

Megan snorted. "Don, the pissing contest between you and Agent Dunbar isn't what's bothering you. Just spit it out and quit beating around the bush."

"What?"

She got off the elevator first and used that as an excuse to led Don into the deserted break room. "You're worried. About Dunbar, about Granger, about the case … just admit it and try to figure out why."

Don brushed by Reeves and grabbed a disposable cup from beside the coffee maker but instead of filling it with coffee like he would've in the past, he walked over to the bottled water dispenser. "It's not Granger or Dunbar's 'safety' I'm worried about, Megan. He's a former Ranger and Dunbar is probably a Navy gal or a former Marine, I am pretty sure they can handle anything that comes their way." He took a swallow from his water before continuing. "It's not even Dunbar's team being the lead in this investigation."

"Then what's crawling around in that brain of yours, Eppes?" She moved past him to get her own water.

"I'm not sure. Maybe it's that young agent of Dunbar's, Keynes. I can't believe an agent of Dunbar's position hasn't drop kicked her back to the academy for re-evaluation."

Megan shook her head. "Don, don't judge Keynes by what little you've seen of her so far. Or what you might have heard from Dunbar herself. Sometimes it's the agents that start off on the bumpiness road who end up the best field agents, it just takes a little longer to hammer their rough edges smooth."

Don drained the last of his water, crumpled the cup and tossed it in the trash. "You talking from experience, Megan?"

"Maybe." She paused to sip on her cup before speaking again. "All right. Yes. My first assignment out of Quantico was a near disaster. Thankfully, I had a senior field agent who pulled me up by my bootstraps and realized I had untapped talents and helped me get further training. Keynes may just be having the same problem." Megan topped off her water and headed back out to the bullpen.

Don followed her, recalling how his first assignment out of Quantico - with a robbery unit out of Duluth - had not been one of his stellar moments. He approached his desk, pulling a piece of sugar-free gum out of his shirt pocket and popping it in his mouth, prior to noticing that the incoming call light was flashing on his phone. Before he could answer it, the light stopped blinking, indicating the switchboard had pulled the call back and was probably taking a message. He reached out as he sat down and flipped the switch on the side of the phone that would allow the FBI switchboard operators know he was back on station.

The phone started ring out loud before he could boot up his computer. "Eppes!" he answered, not exactly in a happy mood, the switchboard must've just been waiting for him to go 'back in office' so they could send a call his way. He listened as NCIS Agent Keynes explained what she had found, that the dead sailor might be one Ignacio Ramirez and as he listened Don realized that, maybe, Agent Keynes had the skills to become a real federal agent after all. He gave her the information she requested, namely a secure fax line and email account to send her information to. After hanging up, he sat for a minute in silent contemplation before he heard Megan calling his name.

"Don, what was that about?"

Don let a smile cross his face as he stood up to go to the fax machine he'd given Sunny the number to. "Would you believe me if I told you that Agent Keynes may have already identified the dead sailor?"

Megan looked at her watch. "Already?! Stringfield must have drove like Andretti for her to have pulled up the information by now. We've not even been back fifteen minutes … Wait, how can she be sure she's I.D.ed the victim?"

Don stood over the fax machine as it started to chitter and chatter, signifying an incoming fax. "She said she wasn't sure, but that the parameters she put on her database search - including the man's service number and name from the dogtags - pulled up a possible match to a sailor who missed his launch date on the USS Ronald Reagan. Ten days ago." The fax spit out the last page and Don picked up the papers to look over the quality of the ten-card as well as the only photo Keynes had found in the man's service files. It wasn't good. "Megan, call I.T. and tell them I'm on my way down and that I'll need access to their highest resolution printer. After that, call over to the morgue and ask someone there to tell Doctor Meese I'm bringing him a file to look at."

As he left the area, he placed the faxed information on Megan's desk. The fingerprint card and photo might not have faxed through clear, but the rest of the Seaman First Class file did and, Don knew, that's all Megan needed to start a behavioral profile on the victim. That Reeves was already looking over the file as he was heading out and she was calling the Information Technology department just proved - once more - that Megan Reeves was damn good at multitasking. Something that, in the future, would stand her in good stead for a team leader position if not an actual office of her own to run.

Before he got down to the I.T. department, Don stopped by the hole the FBI had stuffed their Forensic teams into while their usual office space was being renovated - read: demolished due to an infestation of some unidentifiable nasty. Finding Shelly Montenegro pissing and moaning about her team having to share space with other, less organized, teams, Don asked her to see if she could assign a crew to go out first thing in the morning to process the scene at Joshua Tree National Park. What he hadn't expected was her enthusiastic response that it would be _her_ merry band of criminalists who would take on the assignment. He wondered about that until he was standing outside of the sacrosanct domain of Information Technology. _Overtime_. Shelly and her fellow criminalists were after the all mighty overtime dime.

Don was still chuckling over Montenegro's dedication to duty when he asked Dieter Smith, the current shift leader in I.T., for access to the high resolution, color laser printer. From Dieter's reaction, an uninformed observer might think Don had asked the man to sacrifice his first-born child on the altar of some bloodthirsty deity, but after helping the Tech Weasel stop hyperventilating Don got his request granted without asking Assistant Director of Agents Wright to step in. Though he had been seriously contemplating that action while looking for a paper sack for Dieter to breathe into.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Yelena woke up, not sure at first what had awakened her, but aware something wasn't quite right. First off, she'd actually fallen asleep at a crime scene. Secondly, she was using Granger's chest as a pillow and while he didn't seem to mind, she didn't want to become too comfortable with that idea. Not yet anyway. She was trying to move out from under Granger's arm when the silence of the area slammed into her awareness.

'_Too quiet. Even in the hottest weather, there's always some sort of insect noises in the desert country._' Forgoing the stealthy approach to extricating herself from Granger's grasp, Yelena Dunbar sat straight up and scanned the horizons. The light of a quarter moon helped illuminate the landscape with a dim silver glow … especially the eastern horizon. "Shit! Granger, wake up!" She wasn't exactly gentle as she shook his shoulder to wake him, but his reaction time still caught her off guard.

Yelena ended up flat on her back, looking up into Granger's face even as his hand was tightening on her throat. He'd told her he had been in the Army, now she was certain he'd been in Special Forces, it was always a mistake to rudely awaken Spec-Ops guys. Thankfully, he woke up enough to realize who she was before the pressure on her throat got to the level that would leave bruises. "Crap! Yelena!" He let go of her, standing up as he did so, pulling her up with him. "I could've killed you! Don't do that again. Ever!"

She coughed, loosening up the tightness in her throat before she replied. "Fine, next time I'll leave you to the tender mercies of the approaching storm." Yelena pointed over his shoulder, back to the East. "Unless you'd rather get sandblasted, I suggest we find cover in the next three minutes or we're both going to have very interesting stories to tell our teams."

Granger looked to where she was pointing and even someone not trained in desert survival could miss the roiling, almost surreal, wall of advancing dust and sand as it steamrolled across the desolate landscape. "Three minutes? Hell, looks more like two to me, 'Lena."

They moved to pick up the tarp they'd been lying on, grabbed and placed the compact body bag with the remains of the second body under the bench-wall they'd been using as a back-brace, then made their way back to where they'd worked all afternoon to dig Johnny Doe up. The hole wasn't deep, but it was protected on two sides by hard sandstone walls and, with the tarpaulin as a cover, they might just weather the intruding storm. Just before Granger pulled the tarp over their hidey-hole, Yelena darted back out to grab the large backpack and dragged it back to form a third wall. She also dove into a pocket and grabbed another bandana and a bottle of water.

The noise from the wind was so loud at this point that verbal communication was out, and stumbling around in the dark was becoming dangerous; however, Yelena managed to soak the scarf she had been using as a bandeau as well as the newest one, and made sure Granger understood to use the soaked material as a breathing filter. She was just settling down beside him in the hole, practically forced to lay on top of him, when something struck the tarp and the back of her head, stunning her.

- - - - - - - -

Colby struggled with the tarp, using his body to anchor one end and planning on having Yelena use her body to pin the other end down, effectively creating a cocoon. He didn't protest when she darted back out of the hollow to grab the large backpack - her idea of using it as a third 'wall' at the end of the canvas-made tube would help keep some of the dust and sand out. When she handed him the water-soaked bandana he nodded that he understood and took a few seconds to secure it around his nose and mouth.

When they were finally as prepared for the storm as they could be, he handed her an end of the tarp and watched as she settled down. Her lithe body practically lying on top of his did wonders for distracting him from the potential danger they were in from the tempest. Yelena had just stopped squirming around, her body providing an anchor for her end of the cover, when Colby heard the 'clang' of something metal and heard her let out a gasp just as her body went suddenly lax.

"'Lena?!" He pulled her in close so he could hear if she responded, but nothing. Carefully, he wriggled one arm free around so he could gently cradle her head, and check for bleeding, when he came across a slight bump on the back of her skull; a bulge that was rapidly growing even as he used only his fingertips to try to discern the potential damage in the darkness of their rough shelter. '_This is just great. First I damn near kill her with my combat reflexes when she woke me up to save me from this sandstorm, and now she's gotten clocked on the noggin' because she insisted that I take the bottom of the crevice._'

Knowing there was nothing he could do at the moment for her, Colby held onto Yelena and waited for one of two things to happen. Either the storm would blow itself out and he could then recover their camp light and inspect her injury and decide, then, if he needed to use the radio to call for an evac; or she'd regain consciousness on her own before the storm blew out and would be able to respond to some down and dirty assessment questions.

As he held her, Colby felt Yelena's breathing pattern change and she jerked back to awareness rather abruptly.

"Fuck! That HURT!" The swiftness of her return to consciousness, and so irritably vocalized, made Colby chuckle. Which may have been a mistake, for she must have heard - or possibly felt - him laughing as there was a sudden poke in his ribs as she leaned in closer to ask, "What the HELL are you laughing at, Granger?"

"I was…" He stopped, realizing he had to raise his voice a little higher to be heard over the howling wind. "I was going to ask if you were all right, but … where did you learn to cuss?!"

"Where do you think?!"

The two of them chuckled at their situation before calming down to wait out the sandstorm. The closeness of their bodies would, under other conditions, be more than an open invitation to Colby's mind to let his hands explore Yelena's curves. As it was, he decided that it wasn't the best time to even think about such a thing, even though he _did_ think about it, and kept his hands still where they lay across her back.

He'd had a chance, in the scrambling around to prepare for the arrival of the storm, to glance at his watch's iridium dial and when the wind finally stopped blasting their makeshift shelter, and Yelena lifted the tarp off them - dumping a large amount of sand down on top of their bodies - Colby got another look at his watch and realized they'd been huddled together for well over two hours. And, really, the storm wasn't over, the air was still filled with fine dust particles but the sandblasting part of the tempest was done.

Even as he scrambled over to where they'd placed Johnny Doe's body bag to make sure he weathered the storm with no major ill effects, Colby heard Yelena break out the military radio Stringfield had turned over and she contacted someone, probably the Marine flight-ops running the exercises the NCIS agent had told him about.

"Lima Flight - Palms, can you read me?"

"_Top? Is that you?_"

Yelena let out a laugh before keying the radio again. Colby knelt down beside the stone bench and started to shift sand with his hands that had accumulated around the body bag.

"Yeah, it's me … that you Sergeant Harkess?"

"_TopBar! You managed to survive the storm? How about the Fed who's with you?_"

"We both made it through the storm, Sergeant. How soon before you and Camp Penn resume your logistical flight-ops?"

"_You requesting extrication to Camp Penn?_"

"Roger that."

"_Give us til sunrise to get the birds dusted off, checked over and prepped and we'll be right there. Can you pop smoke for an LZ?_"

"No smoke … watch for an alternate LZ marker_._"

"_Roger that, Top. We'll be over your last known shortly after zero-six-hundred. Lima Flight - Palms, out_."

He'd just managed to free the body bag of it's sand tomb when Yelena came back to stand over him. "Colby, we should have a ride out shortly after dawn. Hope you don't mind choppers?"

"Nah, I like chopper rides ... the more turbulent the better." Colby brushed sand off his Dockers as he stood up and faced Yelena. "By the way, I couldn't help but over hearing … 'TopBar'?"

"A shortened combination of Top Sergeant, just one of my ranks in my Corps career, and my last name. Sergeant Harkess and I go way back and he's the one who hung the nick on my when I crossed over to the reserves and NCIS." She reached up and used her hand to brush more dust and sand out of his hair, enveloping them both in another cloud of particulate. "Damn, we definitely need a shower after this."

Colby nodded, already feeling parts of his body chaffing where sand or dust had gotten caught between him and his clothes. "Yeah, but that will have to wait until I get back home to LA."

"Why?"

"No change of clothes in my field kit, that's why."

Yelena shook her head. "Army, you ain't thinking straight. We're hitching a ride on a Marine bird, back to a Marine base, where there is a Post Exchange where we can pick up a change of clothes for you and, if you don't mind a little more closeness, I do have a fully equipped guest bathroom back at my quarters."

He looked down at her; the pale moon had finally emerged from the clouds and was filtering through the last of the airborne dust, and shook his head. "I should probably refuse the offer, but truth be told, I hate sand in my clothes so I accept your proposal, Yelena Dunbar."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

David Sinclair woke up in his apartment, his hand automatically reaching for his sidearm on the bedside stand before he even started to try to catalogue what woke him up. The soft ticking of the Baby Ben® alarm clock whispered through the dark gray stillness of the room, lending no clues to his sleep-muddled senses or Morpheus messed up mind. Stealing a glance at the face of the clock, David slipped from bed knowing there was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep until - and if - he figured out what woke him in the first place.

Sliding into a pair of pajama bottoms, he wandered out to the living area in the dim light from the streetlamps that barely filtered past his blinds and curtains. As he neared the entrance door, David heard a car door slam shut, just as a larger sized engine cranked over and a door on the lower floor crashed closed. Glancing out the front door, he saw what he expected to see … the huge red and white, older model Ford LTD that belonged to the couple downstairs was roaring out of the parking area, which meant the Yancys were fighting. Again.

Closing the door, David banged his head lightly against the heavy structure. "I really need to get out of this complex." He engaged the deadbolt once more and, after taking care of a little detail in the bathroom, padded back out to the kitchen on bare feet, looking for something to drink. As he crossed the living area, he grabbed up the television remote and clicked it, automatically switching the channel over to the Weather Channel.

He'd just pulled a small bottle of orange juice from the fridge when the weather-girl, she really couldn't be a meteorologist - not with _that_ body, started talking about how cold air above the Mojave and the hot air at ground level had caused one of the largest dust storms of the last four years. David turned the volume up as he walked over to stand in front of the TV, just as a graphic of the affected area flashed on the screen.

_"…as you can tell, the areas of southern California affected are some of the lesser populated regions, but according to the FAA, many commercial and military flights have been postponed until this storm blows itself out. That can be anywhere from another hour to two more days. This time of year, with the current weather pattern we're tacking, the duration is pretty much up in the air. We'll be back with the Sand and Sun report, right after this." _

David cursed as he realized the hardest hit area was right where they'd left Colby and the NCIS Agent. The east end of Joshua Tree National Park, and with the military having canceled flight operations, the one 'emergency' way of evacuating Granger if there was a need was gone. Marines were nuts, skilled and talented nuts, but not even United States Marine Corps Aviators would fly their birds through a sandstorm.

Reaching for his landline, David dialed up the forensic lab at headquarters, only to find out that Shelly Montenegro and her team had already left out for the park. According to the lab tech manning the desk, Shelly had heard the first reports on the sandstorm over her not-quite-legal police and military scanner and decided the best way to tackle the situation was to leave and hope to get to the scene before the winds blew all the evidence away. Not to mention, they might be needed to dig Granger out of whatever hole he and the NCIS agent had, hopefully, managed to crawl into.

David hung up the phone and debated whether or not he should call Don. He finally opted against it when he realized there was nothing any of them could really do except worry and he was doing enough of that for everyone on the team. "Here's hoping you found a nice place to hole up in Granger and that Dunbar doesn't decide to leave you to get sandblasted." He drained the last of his orange juice and, seeing that it was close to four in the morning, decided he'd had enough sleep and getting ready for the day would be a good way to keep from worrying, too much, about Granger.


	3. Chapter 3

See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

**Part Three**

Colby had, at Yelena's request - really more of an order, stripped most of his clothes off when he walked in the back entrance of her base quarters while she bolted up the stairwell with a shouted, 'the guest shower is just behind the laundry room.' The dust and sand laden clothes hit the washing machine - also at Yelena's plea, something about not wanting sand, more sand anyway, tracked through her place than absolutely necessary.

A whirlwind jaunt through Camp Pendleton's Post Exchange had resulted in a new set of Docker trousers, a Marine emblem embroidered golf shirt - in Marine Blue no less, as well as new set of tee shirts and, much to his embarrassment, underwear. All paid for by Dunbar, who admitted – later – that she'd put it on account for her team's use. The last woman to buy his underwear had been his mother, back before he'd started attending extracurricular sporting events at Cascade High School.

The guest bath, when he finally got to it, was tastefully, if spartanly, painted in shades of sand and what could only be called sea foam blue and decorated with a few scattered seashells, including one very large abalone shell. He found a couple of large bath towels hung over a towel rack, found the shower to be spotless - much like the rest of the bathroom - and almost hated to climb into the shower stall to remove the sand and dust from his body. However, his need to be rid of the crust coating his body outweighed the feeling that by using Yelena's guest shower he was somehow crossing an invisible line in his relationship with her. Besides, the hot water sluicing over his body more than made up for any misgivings he might have had. The choice of soap, however, was probably going to get him teased by David. Not too many guys would willingly use something that smelled of lavender and sandalwood, but the bottle of liquid soap was all that was available and beggars can't be choosers.

He'd just turned off the shower and was drying off when there was a rapid series of knocks at the door, just before it popped open and Yelena walked in. "Dunbar!" Colby scrambled to wrap the towel around his waist.

"Relax, Colby. I've got my eyes closed." He looked and, sure enough, she had her eyes shut. "Thought you might want this?" She tossed the bag from the PX on the counter before she exited the room again, but not before aiming a parting shot over her shoulder. "Nice hips!"

Colby stood stock still in the shower, water dripping down his chest and back, as the shock of Yelena's boldness rippled though his mind. However, the longer he stood there, the towel barely hanging around his waist as he held it with one hand, the more he realized he didn't mind her taking a look. He just wished she'd given him a chance to reciprocate.

When he finally emerged from the bath, fully clothed but still barefooted, Colby found Yelena in the kitchen area, just hanging up the landline as he walked into the room. "Did you really peek, 'Lena?"

Her smile lit up the room. "Do you really want to know?" She handed him a mug of coffee, not too hot but not cold either. "Black, like you usually drink it. We need to stop by NCIS-West HQ before we pick up my truck and head up to LA."

Colby nodded. They'd walked from the logistics building where Sgt. Harkess and the helicopter crew had dropped them, to the Post Exchange and then to Yelena's quarters on base. All in all, it was about a 2-mile hike, but the heat they'd experienced back at Joshua Tree National Park yesterday was a long-gone memory here at Camp Pendleton, especially just after 6:30AM when Colby wished for a light jacket to combat the chill in the air. Now, at just after 8:00 AM, the temperature was still cool, but not chilly, and there was a nice ocean breeze blowing in through the kitchen's open window.

They finished their coffees in companionable silence and, when they were done, Yelena took both mugs, rinsed them out and set them upside down on the drain board of her kitchen sink. Colby couldn't help but notice that she was dressed in a outfit similar to the one she'd worn yesterday, only this time she was wearing tan slacks, a white dress shirt, with a brown leather vest hiding her sidearm and badge. He walked out of her place behind her, making sure the door was firmly latched and locked before joining her on the sidewalk.

"Yelena, I have to ask … do you always wear Dockers, a shirt like that and your vests when on duty?"

She smiled at him. "Yeah, I do. Too many years as a active duty Marine; I like having a "uniform" even when I'm no longer wearing the uniform." She set off down the wide troop-walk in front of the circle her quarters were on, establishing a quick but easy pace. "NCIS is about three-quarter of a mile from here, as the gulls fly, but we can't walk there directly unless you want to cross the golf course?"

"No. If I walk through a golf course, I'll be tempted to stop and play." Colby grinned. His father and older brother had taught him the game when he was a kid and, after he'd gotten to college, he'd been deemed 'good enough' to be one of the alternates on the Golf Team. It worked out well with his wrestling schedule too. "How far is it if we avoid the course?"

"About 1.3 miles. Why?"

"Just curious."

And he was. Though he'd visited a couple of Marine encampments in Afghanistan and Iraq, as well as one while he was in the Balkans, he'd never actually been on any military post that wasn't all Army. Except for the uniforms and, in some cases, the haircuts on some of the men he saw, there wasn't much in the way of differences. As he walked along side Yelena he again noticed that her stride was long enough to match his and she tended not to waste anytime on mere strolls. He also noticed something else and, as they reached the steps leading to the building with a ornate wooden plaque hung beside the main entrance to identify it as the headquarters of Naval Criminal Investigation Services - West, he couldn't hold back commenting anymore.

"Yelena, do you always smell like roses and gunpowder?" His reward was a rich laugh that drew the attention of a uniformed Marine guard standing just inside the entranceway.

"Yes. It's a special blend of perfume that a chemist friend back east makes for me." She waved at the Marine, "Don't bother with a background check on this one, Corporal Bayyard. He's Eff-Bee-Eye." The guard nodded, but still came over to Colby with his portable metal detector.

"Be that as it may be, Agent Dunbar, you'd have my ass on report rather damn quick if I didn't do my job." The Marine rumbled in a voice that seemed to issue forth from somewhere around his stomach. "Mister FBI, please place your sidearm, badge and any other weaponry you might have on the table and then hold your arms out to your side, please."

Colby complied with the guard's request even as Yelena breezed through the checkpoint with barely a quibble from the Marine's partner on the far side of the freestanding metal detector. After all, when they got to Los Angeles, he'd be the one to breeze through the security check points while she'd have to undergo a deeper, slightly less invasive, scan. He really didn't mind, too much, when the Corporal put the wand down and proceeded to pat him down before sending him through the detector arch, but he did wonder about the seemingly heightened level of security. The second guard, a mere one-stripe, returned his sidearm, badge, spare magazines, cuffs and his Leatherman tool once he was through and Colby caught up to Yelena who was waiting for him by the central stairway. All in all his security clearance hadn't taken more than three minutes, it just seemed longer.

As they walked up the wooden stairs to the third floor he finally asked about the security level. Yelena's answer was blunt. "We've gotten chatter from NSA that there might be 'something in the works' against our agency, only the NSA isn't sure if it'll be NCIS-West or NCIS HQ in Washington DC so we're erring on the side of paranoia."

She led the way down a hallway of glass-topped walls before turning into the last one on the right where Agents Rick Stringfield and Sunny Keynes were already hard at work. Rick looked up and a huge grin crossed his face. "Hey! You both survived! Heard you got caught in a nasty-ass storm though."

Yelena walked over to a desk set next to a huge fish tank, that didn't have any fish in it but was still bubbling away. Colby did not miss the frown that crossed her face as she unlocked a drawer and placed her gun inside and he crossed over to check on her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just trying to decide when I'll find time to restock my tank." She nodded toward the fish tank that Colby estimated held at least 100 gallons of water. "Rick, Lenny, Mouse and even Sunny here tried but they're not fish people and by the time I got back … I didn't even have a single guppy left." Yelena shrugged, as if shaking off the thoughts of her dead fish and she looked past his shoulder, causing Colby to glance back to see Rick practically dancing a jig in an attempt to get Yelena's attention. "What is your problem, Rick?"

"Oh, nothing …" Stringfield's smile reminded Colby of a cat trying to hide the fancy canary in it's mouth. "But our Probie managed to get some good, hard data on our dead squid."

"Oh?" Yelena sounded surprised as she turned to face Sunshine Keynes who, thanks to her inadvertent misstep yesterday into a second body, had her leg propped up on a trashcan and sporting an icepack on top of her ankle. "What did you find out about Seaman Ramirez, Keynes?"

Colby felt a little out of place as Keynes rattled off the information she'd managed to dig up on the sailor, even going so far as to qualify her information with a caveat. "It might not be the same Ignacio Ramirez we found in the park, there are something like 18 Ignacio Ramirez's enlisted in the Navy and three-quarter of them are assigned to Pacific Fleet."

Yelena nodded. "But you think there's a good chance you found the right Ramirez? Using the information from his dogtags, the corresponding file and medical records that you sent to Mouse?" Sunshine nodded. "Right. Pull the file up and send it to my email account. I need to contact Scuito and let her know I'm shipping her some samples." She turned to Colby and gave him a warm smile. "Granger, you might want to stand over there by Sunny's desk, read over the file if you want, or you'll be in the MTAC pick up."

Colby wasn't sure what an 'Emtack' was, but from the way Yelena talked he didn't want to get in the way and he moved over to where Sunshine was nursing her sprained ankle and struck up a light conversation with her.

- - - - - - - -

Yelena waited to set up the MTAC video communication link at her desk, the secure MTAC room on the far end of the third deck was currently undergoing massive renovations, until Granger was talking with Keynes and turned on the 'white noise curtain' around her desk that would ensure that her conversation with Headquarters back east would be private. Well, unless Granger had a previously undiscovered talent for reading lips. MTAC being 'temporarily' unsecured was the real reason security was so tight at NCIS-West, though the NSA reported possible terrorist chatter was also a concern. Granger had been sharp enough to spot the obvious safety measures, but he had yet - to the best of her knowledge - to pick up or comment on the other precautions in place. Possibly because he was used to having nearly everyone around him in his office packing heat but here, at a office located in the middle of a Marine Base, NCIS Agents usually didn't carry 24/7 and support staff didn't carry at all, even if they were qualified to do so, but recent weeks had seen a massive change in that policy.

She checked the camera pick up before requesting the one of the displaced MTAC communications techs, currently housed on the second deck, to connect her to Headquarters. There was no way Abigail Scuito would miss seeing Granger in the background, the girl was way too sharp, so Yelena decided to 'tease' Abby by making sure she could see the FBI Agent. Slipping the bluetooth-like communications ear bud and microphone over her left ear just as the forensic tech appeared on her monitor. "Morning, Abby."

_"'Lena! Long time no see! Are you needing another batch of your favorite scent already?" _

Yelena smiled and shook her head. "No, I'm doing all right on that. I just wanted to give you a heads up on some evidence I'm going to ship your way via a Harrier jet from here to Patuxent NAS. It'll be a race between you and the local FBI lab for results."

The dark-haired Goth woman on the other end of the connection stopped bouncing around and her smile turned extremely wicked. _"Ooh, you've had pissing contest with another FBI agent? What is it with you and Gibbs that neither of you can get along with the Febbies?"_

"I get along just fine with certain FBI Agents, Abby." Yelena made her point by hooking her thumb over her shoulder to where Granger was leaning on Keynes' desk, reading a hard copy of a file. "If you want, I'll ask Special Agent Granger step over here and let him tell you where we were last night."

_"Oooh! You are getting over your interagency disdain!"_ Abby's face bounced around the screen again, like she was trying to look past Yelena so she moved aside to give the camera a unobstructed view of Granger, only to hear Abby let out a kitten mew. _"Aww, 'Lena, no wonder you started to like Febbies … he's CUTE!"_ Over the audio pickup Yelena started to hear keys on a keyboard starting to clack and click as Abby did something on her end and her eyes darted to the left as if she were looking at another computer screen. _"Granger, Granger … Colby James Granger, Special Agent FBI, currently assigned to an elite investigation team under Supervisory Agent Don Eppes at the Los Angeles field office… that him?"_

Yelena laughed. "Damn, Abby, that was faster than you usual speediness. Yes, that's him."

_"Tim's been helping me overclock my computers … don't tell the Director that if she should ask you."_ More clicking noises drifted over the connection_. "Born in Boise, mostly raised in Cascade, Idaho, prior Army, Special Forces and Criminal Investigations and it looks like he shares your interest in arcane combat. You two officially dating yet?" _

"Abby … never mind." She shook her head, mentally realigning her train of thought back onto its official track. "The evidence will be at your lab later this evening - your time - tell Gibbs it's a special request from his first trainee if he gives you any gruff about overtime but I'm going to need the information back as soon as possible."

_"Of course. And I promise to leave your local FBI Lab Rats in the dust. Speaking of dust … for your exceptional Special Agent? How about a nice cologne or liquid soap for a 'just because' gift? I could mix it up and send it to you in the usual manner, just give me some scents that you think fit him."_

She was tempted … Abby's skill as an aroma chemist was extraordinary and the Goth had a talent for taking a description and coming up with something totally unique. "All right, try this on for size and see what you come up with, Abby. Mountain air, cedar and pine, fresh cut hay and tilled soil, leather and, of course, gunpowder."

_"Complicated, huh? I'll see what I can do. Might take a while, I have to distill more of the gunpowder scent."_ Abby craned her neck again, clearly looking over Yelena's shoulder once more, before backing up and using sign language for her final question.

Yelena let out a burst of laughter that must have been strong enough to over power the white noise curtain, because when she disconnected the call and turned back to face the bullpen, everyone was looking at her with questioning glances. She disabled the sound dampening field while shaking her head in disbelief, there was no way she was going to ask Granger if he had any brothers who would like a 'walk on the Goth side.'

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

There were currently four people in the elevator, an unusual occurrence at the current hour of the work day, one actually belonged in the building, the other three were wearing 'visitor' tags and of those three only one had a 'no escort required' stamp on their temporary ID card. That lucky person had their head down over the report that had been presented to her outside of the morgue.

"Mouse, are you sure about the time of death? And the cause?"

Colby fought not to snort in laughter at Yelena Dunbar's choice of nicknames for the NCIS-West Medical Examiner, it wasn't that the name didn't fit Doctor Michael Meese, cause it did, it was the man's automatic reaction to the name that Granger had to fight to ignore. The man fairly bristled, then shook his head in surrender before answering the senior NCIS Agent. "Dunbar, you know how thorough I am under our usual conditions, with the facilities I had at my disposal here; did you expect me to be less thorough? Of _course_ I'm sure about the TOD as well as the COD."

The elevator pinged, the doors opened and Colby gestured for the other three, which also included NCIS Agent Lenny Goldblum, to follow him as he led them into the heart of the 14th floor where the Major Crime Unit of the Los Angeles Federal Bureau of Investigation was housed. The two men and their Supervisor tagged along behind Granger as he scanned the bullpen for his teammates or, at the very least, his team leader. He spotted the team just as Don noticed them from the interior of one of the huge conference/interrogation rooms and moved to wave the ragtag group to the room.

Lenny and Dr. Meese passed by him on their way into the room where his coworkers were waiting, which is when Colby realized Yelena Dunbar had managed to quietly slip away from the group. Confused and more than a little concerned - not that she didn't have the clearance to wander where she willed, she did - what bothered him was that he hadn't noticed her disappearing act and he hadn't taken his eyes off her for more than sixty-seconds. Then he recalled one of the more grouchy comments she'd made on the drive up to Los Angeles from Oceanside and, taking a sniff of the office air, followed his nose to the break room and it's huge, communal pot of coffee.

"'Lena … find what you need?"

She turned around to face him, her hands wrapped around a disposable cup and said cup was held before her face as she inhaled the steam rising up from the liquid's surface. "Sorry, I should've said something but …" Yelena shrugged.

"If we hadn't been in such a hurry to try to beat the rush hour traffic, we probably would've stopped so you could get your fix." He teased her, even as he moved in closer to the source of her apparent addiction and poured a cup of his own coffee. "So, you ready to go see what else Meese has for us, or what the FBI might have dug up on your NCIS case?"

"Ready as I can be without even a prelim on the second body or even anything beyond a rough idea of the evidence we gathered."

"How long do you think it'll take your lab back east to get even an initial report back to you?"

"Not sure, but I know that once Abby gets it in her hands, she'll work on it until she can give me a report, even if that means working all night and upping her caffeine intake to the maximum level."

He gestured for her to lead the way to conference room, who's occupants could been seen through the not-quite-bullet-proof safety glass that had been installed after Alec Schane had come through and shot up the area. Colby realized, as he did every time he entered this particular room, that this one was the one Charlie had been working on something with Don and, consequently, had nearly had his genius-level gray cells splattered all over one of his ubiquitous white boards.

He suppressed a shudder as he found a spot at the table that, conveniently, placed him at the far end of the table - across from Don - but right next to Yelena. That's when Colby become conscious of a rather disconcerting fact. The federal agents at the table had automatically arranged themselves on opposite sides. FBI on one side and NCIS on the other, except for himself and Don who were seated at the ends of the long desk. '_This is not going to be good._'

Doctor Meese started off the information exchange session by sliding copies of his autopsy report across the surface of the desk to the FBI agents. Yelena still had hers and Lenny didn't look too interested, which puzzled Colby until he read the header on the report. Goldblum had assisted the Naval Medical Examiner with the autopsy.

"Agent Dunbar has already questioned the veracity of my findings, so I assure you all--" Meese's gaze raked across the table to look at each FBI agent in turn, including Colby. "--My determination of both the time and cause of death is as accurate as it can be with physical findings and limited preliminary reports from the local forensic lab."

Don looked up from his reading of the report in his hands. "So you're telling us that while Seaman Ignacio Umberto Ramirez - positively identified, I see - bled out from '23 stab wounds to the lower abdominal area' you don't think he was actually killed where his body was found?"

"That would be correct, Agent Eppes."

"And you're basing that on … what, Mouse?" Yelena asked.

"Entomological evidence."

Colby looked at the second page of the report in his hands and found what the Medical Examiner was talking about. "Bugs. You're basing your conclusion that the body was moved due to the type of bugs you found _in_ the body?" He didn't even try to suppress the shudder that ran up his spine.

"Bug, actually. Singular rather than plural, Agent Granger." Meese pulled a clear evidence jar out of his lab coat pocket and placed it on the tabletop. "A common carpet beetle to be exact. I'll be sending this fellow, along with several preserved larvae of what I believe will be blow flies, to the closest forensic entomologist I know of in Las Vegas for analysis." He absently pushed the jar toward Yelena who immediately moved it away from her with one finger and a shudder of her own.

"Sounds like you made a good contact when you were there earlier this week, Mouse." Yelena observed. "Who is this paragon of creepy-crawly wisdom? And please tell me he's fully qualified to testify in military courts?"

Meese nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes, Dunbar. Grissom is more than fully qualified and, as he got his forensic start right here in Los Angeles, he's likely to know - intimately - just where our little friend came from. Once he completes his analysis, of course."

Megan was nodding as Meese explained to whom he was sending his bug and larvae. "Doctor Gil Grissom has an excellent reputation. Both as a forensic entomologist as well as a steady, unflappable expert witness on the stand, the FBI has used his skills in the past with great success."

David closed the report file in his hand and laid it down. "So we're going to wait for this super buggy guy to tell us where Ramirez was killed before we decide final jurisdiction on this case?"

"No."

Colby wasn't the only person in the room to jump, startled by the unanimous denial from both Supervisory Agents. Don, however, waved for Yelena to continue and settled back in his chair. "Ramirez is, was, a member of the United States Navy. As such, his murder falls under NCIS jurisdiction even if it is later proven to have taken place in a non-military or federally protected area and was committed by non-military personnel." She leaned on her elbows to look down the length of the table at Don. "However, we're not fools and gladly accept the FBI's continued assistance in this case if the offer is still open?"

Don nodded. "It's open. And NCIS still is the leading agency, Dunbar." He turned his attention back to Meese. "Doctor, the other body that Dunbar and Granger had flown up here on that Marine helicopter, any idea when the autopsy - such as it may be - will be done on it?"

To Colby's surprise, it was Lenny Goldblum who answered. "Doctor Gomez had started piecing together the parts just as we came up to the meeting. Mike and I will head back down to help her as soon as we're done here." He looked around. "Don't look so surprised, FBI. NCIS Agents are more than just handsome faces. We tend to have multiple skills and mine, unfortunately, is being pretty damn good at bone puzzles."

Yelena nodded and clarified Goldblum's statement. "Lenny is also excellent with eye-witness sketches. Rick, Agent Stringfield, is a whiz with scene sketches and photography, as well as blood splatter analysis and ballistics. And I found out this morning that Agent Keynes, Sunny, is some sort of data-mining forensic computer geek."

Don smiled. "And your area - or areas - of expertise, Agent Dunbar?"

"Tactical assessment and assault as well as verbal judo." Yelena grinned and Colby found himself cringing in anticipation. "I'm also exceedingly good at getting under the skin of FBI agents."

The silence that descended into the room was deafening, then David's barely suppressed titter of mirth started the flood as laughter followed the domino effect around the table. In the midst of the giggles, a cell phone chattered and every agent in the room reached for their cells. Only it proved to be Yelena's. She glanced at the text message that appeared, nodded in agreement and took a few seconds to rapidly tap out a reply message before looking up at the now silent room.

"Sorry. Just the lab back east confirming receipt of some evidence I sent them from the dig." Colby rolled his eyes. While Yelena was, technically, correct in informing the group of her actions, he'd hoped to catch Don to tell him about it before she sprung it on him. Too late now.

"You sent evidence from your dig, a possible FBI case, to a NCIS lab back east and you're just now telling me about it, Agent Dunbar?" Don's tone was cold, one that Colby had heard before - right after he'd put his life on the line to corner Dwayne Carter - when Don had promised him if he stepped out of line again he'd personally send Granger to prison. And he had. Just like Colby and his handler, Kirkland, had planned.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, Eppes." Yelena's tone was just as frigid as Don's as she responded to his accessory tone of voice. "It was duplicate evidence and I dropped off identical samples at your lab before finding Lenny and Mouse. I just wanted my forensic expert, someone I personally trust, to run the evidence so I can compare her results to your labs."

"And you didn't think to tell me this before now?"

"Sorry, it didn't come up before now and – sorry again – but there was no way for me to mentally transmit data to your brain from mine just because you _might_ want to know before hand." Yelena stood up from the table. "I need a break … unless you'd like to protest that as well, Agent Eppes?"

With that, the meeting broke and the two teams of agents went their separate ways for the most part. Lenny and Meese probably made their way back to the basement and the morgue, while David and Don went to go do something else away from the conference room, leaving behind only Colby and Megan and Yelena. Megan let out a sigh and shook her head.

"Guess it's up to me to show you to the area Eppes set aside for your teams' use while you're here, Agent Dunbar." She led the way out of the room and toward a group of desks not too far from Colby and David's shared cubicle. "Might as well tell you this while you're here, Granger … Don decided that you're on permanent liaison duty for the duration of our interagency cooperation." Megan aimed a sly smile at him and, as a result, Yelena as well. "Somehow we didn't think the two of you would object too strenuously."

"Not on my part. Yelena?" Colby used her name as a question and was gratified to see her fire a genuine friendly smile his direction. "Guess that answers that." The area set aside for the NCIS agents was a group of four desks, complete with NCIC accessible computers, secure landlines as well one computer that was hooked up with a digital video camera for video conferencing. "Damn, maybe we can hang on to some of this equipment when the case is through, Megan?"

"Doubt it, Colby. From the amount of bitching Don was doing when the Technology geeks were up here installing this, it was on orders from our Director and a request from Director Shepherd of NCIS."

Yelena's tone was decidedly puzzled. "Howinthehell did Shepherd know we were co-investigating these cases?"

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

_"That's probably my fault, Yelena."_ It was about an hour after Yelena had discovered that Director Shepherd knew about NCIS-West working with the Los Angeles Field Office of the FBI and a contrite looking Abigail Scuito was peering out of the computer monitor on the desk in front of Yelena.

"Abigail … what happened?"

_"I got your package, went upstairs to get Gibbs to sign off on my OT and, well, the Director was there and Gibbs wasn't and you **don't** know how she can be."_

Yelena let out an exasperated sigh. "Actually, I do know how Shepherd can be, Abby. Who do you think it was who told me to get my ass out to the Stennis and stay there 'until'?"

Abby's eyes widened. _"I'm surprised you didn't tell her where to stick the Stennis."_

"Who says I didn't? Actually, that might be the very reason my assignment to the Task Group was unceremoniously extended when some desk jockey back at 8th & "I" realized I hadn't done my 'required' reserve duties in three years."

_"Yeah, that's about how sneaky our Director can be. She cornered me and when she realized why I was upstairs__** she **__signed off on my overtime. Anyway, your prelim results…"_ Abby rattled a bag of dirt at the camera pick up_. "This sample was chockfull of human DNA, I haven't seen leech like this in well over two years."_

"Were you able to cross and type the possible donor of your leech?"

_"Yeap. Male, O Negative. I'm doing a deeper genetic analysis but the results from that will take at least two weeks."_

"What else have you got for me, Abby?"

_"Tox report from the bone fragment you sent me - nice choice by the way, the marrow was still viable - looks like your bone-man was seriously into some hardcore heroin. Not sure how pure or junked it was, but it was a recent addiction as it hadn't permeated the marrow all the way through."_

"Lovely. So the second body may just be some dumb ass junkie who got lost in the back area of Joshua Tree, curled up in a crevasse for some unknown reason and died."

_"Could be, yeah. Sorry, Yelena."_

"Not your fault, Abby. We're waiting to see what Mouse, Lenny and the local talent can piece together for a possible ID before we officially turn that part of the case over to the Febbies." She leaned into the pickup and lowered her voice. "When you see Jethro, tell him I said 'Hi' and that I found a few Febbies that even he might be able to get along with."

"_No way! Granger and his team are that good?"_

"Seem to be so far. Though I'm a little dubious about the relationship between the team leader and one of their favorite consultants."

_"Oooh, don't be, Yelena. I did more digging after we last talked … team leader's name is Eppes, right?_" Yelena just nodded. _"Well, Don Eppes has a little brother, Doctor Charles Eppes, who is a much sought after mathematician who has consulted with just about every agency in the book … Including ours."_

"Really? When the hell did that happen?"

_"Don't know exactly, it's just a note in his security jacket that, to be honest, I really wasn't supposed to be able to access--"_

"Abigail … hacking into places you know you're not supposed to again?"

_"It's not like I was hacking the CIA…"_

"**This** time. Thanks, Abby. If you get anything further, let me know and, before I sign off, can you email me your file on the prelim results?"

_"You got it! Take care of Granger … and see if you can wrangle a meeting with Doctor Eppes. If you can, slip him my email account, there's a few questions I have for him about his Eppes Convergence Theory."_

Before Yelena could respond, Abby shut down her end of the connection and an unknown voice drifted over her shoulder. "Sounds like someone hasn't kept up with her subscription to Mathematical Journal, I published the Penfield Variation over a year ago."

She turned around to see a shaggy-haired, no, wait, make that curly haired stranger standing behind her. She took a good long look at him and realized he wasn't that much of a stranger. "Let me guess … Charles Eppes?"

"Yeah, sorry for eavesdropping but I heard my name and--" He smiled and the resemblance to Don Eppes became readily apparent. "Don told me you were from NCIS?"

"Yes, Agent Yelena Dunbar." She stood up to shake his hand and, as slyly as possible, move him away from the equipment set up by the FBI's Information Technology geeks … "Sorry about the bum's rush, Doctor Eppes, but a lot of the connections those computers make are probably above your clearance level."

"Really? I didn't think there was anyone - other than the Director of NCIS, of course - whose security clearance was as high as mine."

Yelena stopped moving Charlie and felt the heat rushing to her face. "'High as mine'? Oh crap. Sorry, Doctor Eppes, I made a bad assumption."

He smiled at her again; this time the expression had a slightly flirty edge to it. "Not a problem. You aren't the first to assume my clearance was lower than yours. Even Don didn't know until it slipped out once at a crime scene." He moved back to the area and looked at the information Yelena had left up on one of the computers. "Interesting, you've got a lot of suspects here and not much in the way of physical evidence yet. I might be able to apply a scatter plot technique to this to narrow your field down even as more variables become available."

"A what?" Yelena knew when she was out of her depth and anything beyond basic math was definitely beyond her. Her question seemed to prompt Doctor Eppes to launch into an explanation, which left her head spinning, and more confused than before he 'clarified' things.

"Just nod when he gets to the punch line." Colby's voice whispered in her ear.

"There's a punch line?"

"Eventually." Colby nodded a greeting at Doctor Eppes who had finally wound down from his lecture. "Hey, Charlie. Are you going to be able to help Yelena with your magical mathematical madness?"

Doctor Eppes scowled at Colby, a pretty fearsome look, but Colby didn't seem the least bit phased by the glare. "It's not magic, Colby… and, yes, I think I can. Why?"

"Cause your brother finally got over his hissy fit and wants to start back up on the conference again, even if Doctor Meese and Lenny can't be there." The last part was directed at Yelena and she nodded in agreement.

"Means he probably got a preliminary report back from your illustrious lab and hopes to gloat over my decision to send evidence to Washington." She reached over, pulled up the reports Abby had sent her and printed them out. "He's going to be so disappointed."

"'Lena…" Colby dragged out the last vowel of her name and she realized, belatedly, that she had just dissed the Supervisory Agent in front of one of his blood relations. She turned back to apologize to the Doctor, only to find him trying to stifle a chuckle.

Charles Eppes waved off her attempted apology. "No, don't, Agent Dunbar. I know how Don can be and, hell, if you can get away with irritating him …. By all means, please do!"

She joined in the laughter that issued forth from the area assigned, grudgingly, to NCIS-West on the 14th floor of the Los Angeles FBI Building and, just to further rub salt into Don Eppes wounds, insisted that Charles call her by her first name, which prompted him to tell her to call him Charlie. After all, in his own words, "Charles just sounds so pretentious and I'm not that insufferable, am I Granger?"


	4. Chapter 4

See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

**Part Four**

As far as briefings go, and Don had attended more than his fair share, this one wasn't as bad as some, nor as pleasant as others. He had hoped to show Dunbar that the local FBI labs were faster and better prepared than her NCIS lab guru back east … unfortunately, Dunbar's forensic expert had been as good as Dunbar had played her up to be. The NCIS preliminary reports were far more detailed than the FBI labs and that wasn't setting too well on Don's mind. What really seemed to crawl under Don's skin had to do with his brother more than the NCIS agent.

"Agent Keynes pulled a list of AWOL sailors, Marines, Air Force and Army personnel from the area, including a few who are Absent With Out Leave from the Coasties, and Doctor Eppes has graciously offered his skills to help us try to winnow that list down to a more manageable size." Dunbar explained when Don asked Charlie what he was already working on - the scribbling of his pencil on the yellow legal pad had distracted Don. "I know it seems rather narrow-minded of me and my team, Eppes, but we're operating off the assumption that this second, actually the first, victim was probably military connected due to the fact that our first discovered body was."

"And you're using the rough ToD that Dr. Meese came up with along with … what? The depth and quality of the 'leech' your forensic lab rat back east found in your soil samples?"

Don actually found himself leaning back, just a smidge, from the table when Dunbar practically growled at him. "She is not a 'lab rat' - she's the head of NCIS's crack forensic lab, she is called Abigail Scuito and she's probably been a scientist longer than you've been a Febbie."

"All right, all right … no offense meant, Dunbar." Don picked up the pen he'd been fiddling with, when he wasn't taking actual notes, and tapped the table with it. "Did Keynes pull just military AWOLS from SoCal or did she include the entire Southwest and Pacific Coast? And exactly how large of a time window did she use?"

Dunbar, and a few of his own team members - especially Granger and Reeves, took a deep breath before she her tone as she answered his questions, but it had clearly cost Dunbar to calm herself and to answer in a smooth tone. "I didn't exactly detail the assignment to Sunny, she did this on her own after Granger and I left to head up this way; however, I trust since a few of the listed AWOLS included personnel from Luke AFB and Fort McDowell in Phoenix, as well as Malstrom AFB in Great Falls, Montana, and the Naval Breakers in Bremerton, Washington that Sunny cast a fairly wide net." Dunbar paused to look down at her own notes prior to continuing, "As for the time window … looks like she started at 8-9 months ago and ran it back to just around 28 months back in time." Dunbar snorted, "She's overcompensating in her thoroughness."

Sinclair chortled. "Sounds to me like Keynes has the makings of a good agent."

"Oh, she does." Dunbar admitted, "If she can just get past this over-eager-to-please puppy hood stage." Don chuckled at her assessment of new agents. Having trained more than a few rookies himself, Don knew just how annoying the puppy stage could be and, from what he'd seen of Agent Sunshine Keynes at the scene in Joshua Tree the young woman had a serious case of puppy happening.

Don watched as Dunbar got up, wandered over to the credenza and poured her third cup of coffee since this second meeting started and he couldn't help but notice that she was none too steady on her feet. He also realized Granger was watching the NCIS agent like a hawk, or a mother hen. "Dunbar … did you manage to get any sleep last night at the scene?" He asked.

"A few hours, just before the sandstorm blew up and Granger and I had to dig in to avoid losing layers of skin." She had refilled her cup a forth time, more of a top-off, and walked back to her seat. "Did you get a look at the toxicology report Abby sent over?"

Don nodded and flipped over the pages in front of him until he found his copy of the report. "Looks like Ramirez had a heroine habit?"

"I doubt that, Don." Granger spoke up. "I'm not sure if the Navy is a sticky about random drug testing as the Army was--" Colby looked at Yelena, who nodded an affirmative. "--then there is no way Ramirez could've had a habit long enough to build up to that level without being busted in a random piss test."

"Mule?" Megan asked, bringing up the other possibility.

Dunbar concurred, reluctantly. "It is possible. We've seen a few cases of Naval personnel as well as Marines, who've taken a two-day pass off into Tijuana and came back with bellies full of black tar balloons." She shrugged. "It's a sad state of affairs when the men and women who protect this country feel they have to supplement their meager income by muling, but it does happen."

"Not to mention the ones who have to file for food stamps to help feed their families…" Even to Don's ears, Granger's disgust was clear, not that Don could blame him.

"Are you looking into the possibility that Ramirez was a mule?" Don asked of Dunbar, who nodded an affirmative.

"Yes." She consulted a notepad in her lap, which she'd steadily been scribbling on every now and then - usually after glancing at her cell phone. "Rick's been canvassing Ramirez's duty station and quarters, asking some rather pointed questions and getting more than an earful each time. Ignacio Ramirez, as far as anyone is concerned, should've applied for the Chaplin's Service, or sainthood."

Sinclair shook his head. "No one who ends up with that much heroine in his body can be that squeaky clean."

Dunbar's grin was wry. "Just reporting back what my agent has told me, Sinclair. I sure as hell don't believe it myself." Her cell phone must have gone off again for she twitched, then flipped the device open and started to scribble another note.

"Got something new, Dunbar?"

"Not really. Rick just finished talking to Ramirez's mother and fiancée … neither one of them admitted to knowing why Ignacio would've gone to Tijuana."

"Dead end?" Don asked, a little concerned. If the most recent death was connected to the older body then it stood to reason that it would be through Ramirez that the freshest leads would come. He could tell the same string of thoughts was going through Dunbar's head, just from her sour expression. "Was Rick able to gather possible places of interest off the base from Ramirez's buddies? Places we can ask the San Diego field office or even SDPD to check into for us?"

"Yes, Rick told me he planned to contact one of his detective buddies when he sent that last text message."

"So, until we either get a break from San Diego or Dr. Meese somehow manages to identify the second body, we're pretty much at an standstill?" Don looked around the table to see everyone, including Dunbar, nod their heads in agreement. "Okay, my team needs to get a few loose ends tied up on a previous case. Not you, Granger, I have your arrest report and that's all you were involved in - though explaining your 'unconventional body armor' was a pain the ass - why don't you take a few hours and try to catch up on the sleep you and Dunbar lost when that sandstorm blew through Joshua Tree."

He did not miss the look that passed between Dunbar and Granger, Don didn't think anyone would - except maybe Charlie who was still head down over the legal pad he'd confiscated, and wasn't surprised when, after everyone had left the conference room to see Granger escorting the NCIS agent toward the elevators. Presumably the younger agent was going to show Dunbar to the temporary 'crash room' the FBI kept in the basement - near the in-house gym - for those times when 24 hour shifts were required. If that wasn't the case, Don was pretty sure he didn't want to know. Not until he 'had' to know and, right now, Granger was fortuitously assigned to liaise with NCIS on the case.

He did wonder, however, if Granger had been conscious of the USMC globe and anchor emblem on the navy blue golf shirt he'd been wearing when Don knew, from previous experiences, that Colby kept at least two changes of clothes in his locker downstairs.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

"Why are you fighting me on this, 'Lena?" Colby asked as he stepped off the elevator onto the 2nd floor of headquarters and waited for Dunbar to join him. She almost let the door close between them but, at the last second, decided to accompany him.

"I'm fine, CeeJay. It's just a headache, not a concussion."

"Then it won't hurt to let one of our medics take a look at you and make me feel better, will it?" He stopped before a door marked "HRT" and waited for her response. It wasn't exactly encouraging. Yelena Dunbar sighed, rolled her eyes in disgust, then gingerly nodded her head.

"_Fine_. If it'll make _you _feel better—"

"Great!" He pushed open the door and immediately called out a name. "Hey! Ryan, get your butt and your kit up here, will ya?"

"Granger?" A querulous voice answered from the back of the cavernous room before Colby could see the HRT Medic rise up and start walking toward him. "You get stupid again with your fellow Silly Cretins in Armor?"

"No, Tim … I've got a patient for you." Colby looked over at Yelena, who was leaning against a convenient wall and mouthed an apology at her when she silently repeated Ryan's SCA slur. He couldn't help but notice that she really didn't look all that steady on her feet, so he reached out and escorted her over to a nearby chair just as Ryan picked up speed and approached them.

"New agent?" Ryan asked as he squatted beside Yelena and popped open his field kit to pull out his tools of the trade. First out was a pen light, which he shone in her eyes and she nearly slugged him for it. "Whoa! Uh, Colby, maybe you'd better introduce us if she's going to deck my ass?"

"Yelena … relax, Tim Ryan here is one of the best medics we've got and, hell, he was originally trained by your department." Yelena nodded, but she was also glaring at him, making Colby wonder what the hell he did wrong this time. "Tim, this lady here is Agent Yelena Dunbar of NCIS down at Camp Pendleton. We're working a case together and she kinda took a blow to the head earlier today."

Ryan smiled at Yelena. "Agent Dunbar, huh? From your reaction -- Marine?" She nodded again. "Thought so. Let me check your noggin, while I explain to Granger?" Ryan stood up, after slipping a pair of latex gloves on, and carefully started to feel around Yelena's head while he talked. "It's simple, Granger. Marines and Navy corpsmen have this love-hate relationship. They hate the fact that they need us and strangely love us because we tend to pull their collective asses out of Death's hands. Hmm … good sized goose egg, but I'm not feeling anything that would suggest a fracture. Any idea what hit you, Agent?"

"No clue, but it was probably a portable camp lamp that wasn't secured before the storm hit."

"Storm?" Ryan asked. Colby shook his head, if he had to, he'd explain but he'd rather not tell the man just now. "Right. None of my business. Camp lamp; was this one of those plastic, new fangled varieties or the older, heavier, metal jobbies?"

"Metal piece of—" Yelena stopped before she cursed, which caused Colby and Ryan to smile.

"Crap. Okay, let's take a look at your pupil reaction again before I pronounce." He pulled a spare penlight out of one of his pockets and clicked it on. "Promise not to hit me this time?" Yelena nodded and the medic concluded his exam in less than a minute. "Right. Not even a mild concussion but I suspect you've got one hell of a headache going on?" He reached into his bag and pulled out a couple of packets of over the counter pain relievers. "Do you prefer Bayer, Advil or Tylenol?" Yelena reached for the Advil with a silent 'thank you.' "Right. Colby, show Agent Dunbar here where ailing agents, or dead tired ones, can crash so the Advil can take affect." Ryan stood up and held out a hand to help Yelena stand back up. "Don't be a stranger, Agent Dunbar. It's not very often we HRT types get to hobnob with NCIS-West."

"Flatterer." Colby nearly spat at Ryan as he took Yelena's hand from the Medic and led her out of the department. "Forgive Tim, 'Lena. He's never learned the fine points of chivalry." He looked over to see her dry swallow the tablets. "Come on, let's find you a nice quiet place to rest up and beat that headache."

"What about this crash room Don and Ryan suggested?"

He led her back to the elevators and, once onboard one, pushed the button for the underground garage. "It's right next to the gym and none too quiet. I've got another idea, if you trust me?"

"All right."

Just about five months ago, after his supposed arrest for treason as a part of a major undercover assignment that had resulted in his temporary death at the hands of Mason Lancer (the real traitor and Chinese Agent) – merely two months after he'd nearly been poisoned to death by one Hattie MacPherson – Colby had prevailed upon the FBI to find him a place to rent that was closer to work and as 'secure' as an apartment complex could be in Los Angeles. The result was a gated community just off Wilshire Blvd close enough to USC Medical Center that a number of doctors and staff members lived there and could walk to work if need be. He loaded Yelena up in the passenger seat of his issued sedan and, after a phone call to Megan to explain what he was doing and where he and Dunbar were heading, drove her to his place.

The apartment was more like a small duplex, just under 1000sq ft of living area, two levels with two bedrooms; but it was secure and it was, for now, home. Colby parked the car in his designated spot – he had two but never needed the second – and came back around to help Yelena out, only to find her already out and looking at the complex.

"Shit, they must pay FBI a hell of a lot better than us if you can afford this, CeeJay."

Colby shook his head as he gently led her, with a guiding hand on her back, up the walkway to his place. "Nope. I suspect we're just as poorly paid as NCIS, but there are a few places willing to give 'cop discounts' to federal agents and the Bureau also will pay up to half your rent if you're assigned to a city that is not your 'home' of record." He unlocked the door and let her walk inside his place.

There were still a few boxes left to unpack, mostly his DVD, CD and book collections, stacked in the corner of the living area but the rest of the place was – finally – set up and, thanks to his mother drilling the habit into him before the US Army got a hold of him, the place was also clean. Colby dropped his keys into a dish on a small table in the entryway and the rattling must have triggered a twinge of pain in Yelena's head, cause her hand flew up to her temple and pressed against it hard enough to turn her knuckles white. "Follow me, 'Lena." He walked up a stairwell just off the kitchen area and opened the door of the bedroom closest to the stairs at the top. "Guest room, yours for today. The sheets are fresh, the AC works like a champ but I must apologize for the crowded condition."

That was an understatement, but Yelena didn't seem to care as she walked into the room and strolled over to where he had placed his leather scalemail on a tailor's dummy and ran her hands over the well worn and oiled plates. There was another dummy on the other side of the room – they actually flanked the twin-sized bed – but the second one held his chainmail tunic that he was trying to repair in his limited spare time. "You really _are_ Society." She stated even as she spotted his weapons array on the wall.

"Since I was kid. Yelena, come on, lie down and rest. Knight's honor, I won't disturb you." He blinked when her expression seemed to flicker from disappointment to resignation in less than a second.

"Thank you, CeeJay."

He closed the door, leaving her to sleep or just absorb the silence, then walked down to his room and closed the door. Leaning against it with his back, he bounced his head against the heavy door – lightly so as not to make too much noise – and cursed himself. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Wanting to be a comfortable as possible, and not wrinkling his clothes beyond serviceable wear, he changed into his usual sleepwear. Dropping onto his bed, Colby pounded a pillow into submission, both thankful he was a 'gentleman' like his mother had raised him to be, yet feeling very frustrated at the same time. Before too long, he finally relaxed enough to drop off to sleep, but the dreams that invaded his brain were sweetly disturbing.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Yelena watched the door close to the bedroom and felt a pang of regret. Though she wasn't feeling too good, the pain from the headache was damn near making her sick, she still wouldn't have said 'no' to a repeat of the chaste passion they'd shared back in the National Park. Stripping off her vest, which she tossed over the back of a straight back chair under the only window in the room, she slipped her sidearm, phone and cuff case off her belt and placed them on a table beside the bed. Not able to resist a little poking around, she opened the top drawer of the dresser and, to her delight, was greeted with the sight of a drawer full of coarsely woven linen tunics in natural flax, or dyed deep green or even black. The drawer below that held more leather goods, namely studded gauntlets and greaves, but also a wide leather weapons belt.

She sat on the edge of the bed, the smell of leather invading her senses, and removed her shoes and, after thinking about it for – maybe – thirty seconds, slithered out of her pants and carefully tossed them over her vest before laying back on the bed dressed only in her dress shirt and covering her eyes with her arm. Yelena wasn't a stranger to severe headaches and, after one really nasty concussion caused by a perp resisting arrest who'd hit her on the head with a damn tequila bottle, she'd told the Navy doctor who examined her about the headaches. He'd asked a few dozen questions, after making her undergo a CAT scan, then sent her over to the base Gym at Pendleton to see a friend of his there who taught a variety of martial arts. It was though the sensei that she'd learned to meditate and, if she could take the time to meditate at the start of a bad headache, she could usually nip it in the bud before it became a problem. That hadn't been the case today and the lack of sleep and the knock she'd received hadn't helped either.

A final glance at her watch, she didn't want to 'rest' more than three hours, Yelena started to mentally review her meditation mantra and imagined the headache being pushed out of her head. Before she knew it, she was in a light doze and her head was no longer throbbing in pain with every beat of her heart.

- - - - - - - -

Yelena sat up suddenly, her hand automatically reaching for her sidearm, or where her sidearm would've been had she been at home. A moment of panic sent her heart into her throat, as she didn't recognize the room she was in at first, then she took a deep breath and the scent of leather and metal sparked a memory and she relaxed. The light outside the window was bright enough that she didn't need to flip on the overhead light. Something had woke her up and she cast her mind back to try to see if she could recall what that was as she looked at her watch and realized she'd only been resting for a little under two hours.

Shaking her head, she stood up, stretched and the memory of what woke her flittered across her mind and she reached for a pen and small notebook she kept in an inside pocket of her vest. Sitting on the floor, she scribbled the reminder note to herself – check on Ramirez's accommodations in Tijuana if possible -- then she realized she had another problem.

Too much coffee and not enough visits to the head.

Standing up, she opened the door and, since logic dictated that there would be a bathroom on the residential floor, she stepped out into the hall and found the bathroom right next to the guest room. She was coming out, not even thinking that the noise from the toilet would wake anyone, when what could only be called a wolf-whistle pierced the air.

Yelena spun around to see Colby, wearing only a pair of gym shorts, leaning up against the doorframe of the second bedroom, watching her with a huge grin on his face. "Nice legs."

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was a little embarrassed about being caught by him in a state of undress, Yelena smiled and looked him up and down. "Not too bad yourself, Granger." Then, with all the cool she could muster, she turned her back on him – knowing her shirt didn't _quite_ reach past her butt – and walked back into the room she'd been using. However, instead of closing the door, she left it open. He got the message. She'd no sooner sat on the edge of the bed again than he was knocking on the door frame.

"Mind if I come in?"

"It's your house, Colby." She couldn't believe how damn … _polite_ he was. Asking permission to enter a room in his own home?

"How're you feeling now?" He asked as he sat beside her on the bed.

"Better. My brain woke me up with a thought that I need to see if I can trace Ramirez's movements through Tijuana, then my body decided I needed to visit the head."

"Head? Oh, right. Marine-speak for 'latrine'." His grin was infectious. "So, tell me Dunbar, do you often walk around a strange apartment with no pants on – showing off these rather shapely legs?" Even as he said _legs_, one of his fingers was tracing a very light, almost feathery, line across the top of her thigh.

"No… But I'm not ashamed you noticed."

"How could I not?" He leaned in toward her and she leaned toward him and, finally, she got what she wanted. A repeat of their previous kiss – only much, much better. She didn't restrain herself and after putting her arms around his neck, she leaned back and pulled him on top of her body. The kiss deepened, tongues tangled and danced with each other and Yelena let her hands roam the nearly naked, and nicely muscular, body beneath her fingers. She allowed herself to get lost in the pleasurable sensations rippling through her body, not even protesting – too much – when his lips left hers and dipped down her throat even as his fingers deftly undid the buttons of her shirt. The feel of his hands, strong and sure, his warm breath and sensuous lips on her nearly bare torso caused a frisson of need to surge through her and Yelena found her hands on the waistband of his gym shorts…

The sound of an old fashioned telephone rang through the room, startling Colby into stopping what Yelena didn't want him to stop. She raised her hands to his jaw and made him look at her. "It's just a text message on my cell, it can wait. I'm not sure I can, CeeJay."

"Good, cause I'm not sure I could…" His head whipped around as a high-pitched trill echoed through the doorway. "Damn it! That's my issued cell…" Green-gray hazel eyes locked with hers and before he could explain any further, her cell phone rang the preprogrammed tone she used for text messages for a second time.

Two moans filled the air as Yelena and Colby moved quickly from the bed to answer their high-tech, pain in the ass, communication devices. Flipping open her phone and retrieving the first message, she read the message from Rick Stringfield. The dental x-rays Meese had sent to Abby and Sunny for comparison to the AWOL files of Department of Defense personnel had not turned up anything and did she – Yelena – want to cast the net wider to include government service employees and other civilians? Before she sent back an answer, she looked at the second message.

_'Sunny already compiled and sent a civvies list to Eppes – he's fit to be tied. Watch your six. Rick'_

Colby's voice drifted through the door as he talked to whomever it was who had called him. Yelena stood up and walked to the hallway to see him striding toward her with a confused expression on his face, but when he spotted her, he waved a 'silence' signal at her. "Don, I'm not sure Yelena will know anything about that, she's still sleeping. Yeah, I had Ryan check her out before – have you ever tried to rest in that room when the day shift fitness nuts are working out in the gym next door? No, I brought her to my place and let her use my spare room. Yeah, I'll wake her up and we'll be there as soon as. Okay? Bye." He snapped his phone shut. "Yelena—"

"It's just not our day, Granger. Let me get dressed and then we can go see what's crawled up your supervisor's butt this time." She turned away from him to grab her pants from the back of the chair, only to be surprised by his arms slipping around her waist from behind, then a kiss was placed on the nape of her neck.

"Eventually, things have got to work out to our advantage, 'Lena."

She turned around in his arms and pulled him into her own embrace and kissed him. After a minute or so, she lost track of time, she let go and gave him a slight push toward the door. "It had better . . . I'm tired of being teased." That earned her a light pat on the butt before he left to get dressed.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Having already sent Reeves and Sinclair home for the day, and the weekend, Don Eppes was not happy when the email from NCIS Agent Sunshine Keynes had hit his mailbox just before he'd signed off in hopes of heading home himself. Especially as the email from NCIS-West had required him to take a trip down to the domain of the information technology geeks to approve of the incoming files and possible overtime for their department. He'd sent Granger and Dunbar off to try to catch up on their sleep, thinking Granger would probably – maybe – show the NCIS team leader the crash room in the basement but, when he'd called the man, he'd clearly been anywhere but where Don expected. He glanced at his watch, then the clock on his computer monitor to make sure his watch hadn't stopped, and decided that even if Granger was able to rouse Dunbar and get back on track to headquarters, he wouldn't be able to arrive for at least another fifteen minutes. 'Just enough time to start another pot of coffee, splash water on my face and call Robin in Sacramento to see how her assignment there is going.'

As he passed the conference room Don noticed that Charlie was still working on something, his fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop which was – as usual – hooked up to the plasma monitor and that device was displaying all sorts of equations and mathematical expressions. Don tried to make sense of it all, only to realize Charlie was busy plugging in the new variables (known as names of missing persons) and that somehow each new data he typed in was making more of the dots in a wire frame box to rise or fall accordingly. Don paused in the doorway of the room to shake his head and scrub his face with both his hands, only to look up to find Charlie staring at him.

"Did you find Colby?"

"Yeah. He and Dunbar are on their way back here. How many more names did Agent Keynes send and have you plugged into your thingy?" Don winced as 'thingy' came out of his mouth, knowing from past experiences that Charlie would take umbrage for calling his numbers something so mundane as 'thingy.'

"Sunny sent a total of 507 more names and files. That plus the 15 others I already had DoD files on . . . I should have a pretty accurate accounting for who might and might not be John Doe on the table downstairs."

Don nodded. Just before he'd sent his team home, well, told them to take off, Doctor Meese and Agent Goldblum had firmly identified the bones as belonging to a male – something about the tilt of the pelvic bone or hips or length of the femur or something like that – so Charlie had been able to automatically weed out all the reports of missing females. Which had been 4 from the DoD and 109 from the civilian lists. "Charlie, why don't you go ahead and head on to the house. Dunbar was pretty sure this case wouldn't go anywhere until her agent's contacts in San Diego could backtrack Ramirez's movements before he disappeared. Isn't this the night you were taking Amita to see that play about those physicists?"

"'Copenhagen.' Larry and Megan recommended--" Charlie glanced at the clock on the wall, muttered viciously under his breath, saved his work, signed off and closed his laptop and busted by Don - "Sorry!" - in less than ten seconds. Don watched as Charlie didn't even wait for an elevator, he just hit the door to the stairwell at full tilt and kept going.

Reaching for the cell phone holstered on his belt, Don flipped it open and made a phone call that would, hopefully, save his little brother from being seriously injured. "Amita? Yeah, he just left. The tickets are for the ten o'clock show? He thought it was for the eight … yeah, you definitely have been around him long enough to know how to get him to do what you want. Enjoy the show, Amita, and don't give Charlie too light a pass. Night."

After stopping by the break room and starting a fresh pot of coffee, a disgustingly 'light' version of the real thing, he wasn't about to piss off his Cardiologist - not when her name was Elaine Walker and was married to a LAPD Lieutenant that Don enjoyed working with – and splashing water on his face in the men's room; Don decided what he really needed was fresh air. So he headed up to the roof before making his call to Robin. Besides, while there weren't that many agents still working on the floor housing his unit, no one else needed to hear him speaking sweet words of mushy endearment to Robin Brooks.

- - - - - - - - - -

Yelena decided the best thing for her continued health, right then and there as she stepped off the elevator onto the 14th floor behind Colby, was to either find a damn cold shower, a pugel-stick workout ring or just a nice empty closet where she could accost the FBI agent. Bypassing all those options, she kept one eye open for Eppes as she made her way to the work area set up for her team's use, logged in on the computer and pulled up her emails and the list that had – somehow – put Agent Eppes' tightie-whities in a wad.

The list was extensive, well over 500 names and, judging from the date on the oldest file mentioned, included people who were AWOL or missing for well over 3 years. As she scanned the list, not really in depth, just fast skimming over the entire list, she still wasn't sure what had caused Eppes to get all pissy. Until she hit the "S" section of the list, which Sunny had thought to alphabetize, and then Yelena felt her heart stop.

"Can't be—" She sat back in the chair, her breathing becoming slightly erratic. "He shouldn't be on this list . . . unless Sunny expanded the search parameters." A hand on her shoulder made her jump and she moved fast to shut down the email.

"'Lena, you all right?"

"Yeah, just not enough of a nap." She looked over her shoulder and aimed her wickedest smile at Granger. "Or something else." The look of surprised consternation that crossed the FBI's agent's face was just comical enough that, in her current state, made Yelena giggle. She hated the way she giggled; to her ears she sounded like a naughty schoolgirl. She also knew why Colby appeared like a deer caught in the headlights, she was pushing the boundaries of ''good taste'' by openly flirting with him at his place of employment.

He grabbed a nearby chair and, pulling it close to where she was, sat down close to her and whispered in her ear. "You really like to push the line, don't you?" Then Colby sat back as if he hadn't said anything and asked, "So, did you manage to find the list or figure out what – as you put it – 'crawled up my supervisor's butt'?"

Yelena just scoffed at him, shaking her head as she pulled the emailed document up. "Sunny sent a list of over 500 names. Just the names, mind you, the actual files are being zipped and shot over to your office's main computer communication hub even as we speak."

"That's probably what tee'd him off then. If Sunny didn't call the techies before she started firing massive data packs at them—"

"That's exactly what started it, Granger." Yelena turned around to see Eppes striding toward them. "Then, as I started sifting through the list Agent Keynes sent, I couldn't help but notice that there were no less than three files – civilian files, mind you – flagged by the NCIS-West Investigation division." Eppes leaned against the cubicle's partial wall divider and crossed his arms. "One of those files I tossed out immediately, since I just got word from Dr. Meese that our John Bones Doe is definitely male."

Yelena shook her head. "I could have told you that, Eppes. Hip and pelvic structure alone told me that at the scene once Granger and I recovered enough of the pieces."

"Which is why we called the body "John Doe" instead of "Jane" … Don, there's more to your mood than overloaded data lines."

"You're right, Colby, there is." He moved into the cubicle and perched his hind end on the edge of the desk Yelena was sitting at. "Why would NCIS flag civilian files, Agent Dunbar?"

"I'd have to read the files and the attached flag to be able to tell you that, Eppes." She stood up and looked past Eppes. "I see your brother called it a night, as has the rest of your team – why haven't you?"

"I had to approve the data stream coming in since that means overtime, possibly, for a couple of techs – who, by the way, are fascinated by the encryption code used by your agency for such transfers."

She smiled. "Its pretty much Department of Defense standard encryption, Eppes. Nothing too special unless, of course, you've never seen anything like it before."

"Do you have the decrypt key?"

"Naturally."

"Well, for the techs to be able to open the packets and print them out—"

"Say no more, Eppes. Just point me in the direction of your techie-den and I'll give them the key." He did just that and Yelena left the two FBI agents to their own devices. Trying not to think about why that one name had popped up on the list or, heaven forbid, what she might do if John Bones Doe turned out to be him.

- - - - - - -

Colby watched Yelena walk away, something about her body language was off … but he wasn't sure what had caused it. The document with the names Sunny had sent up still blazed from the screen, but none of them jumped out at him as cause for concern.

"Did you get her checked out by medical before taking her home?"

He looked over at Don; the supervisory agent was watching Yelena's departure and Colby understood why. If he hadn't been with her for the last few hours, he might have sworn in court that she was slightly inebriated. Her path wasn't exactly straight and there wasn't any reason for it that he could perceive. "Yeah, Tim Ryan checked her out. No concussion but one hell of a headache. Of course, we didn't take any time out to eat and I know my blood sugar is dropping – maybe that's all that's bothering Yelena."

That earned him one of 'the looks' from Don. "You really believe that, Colby?"

"No, not really. She acted all spooked by something she saw on this list." Colby waved a hand at the document Yelena had left displayed on the flat screen computer monitor.

"Yeah, I noticed." Don took over the seat vacated by Yelena and looked over the list of names. "The data packets haven't gotten this far yet … you sure this is the page she was looking at when you spooked her?"

"You saw that?"

"I try not to miss too much that goes on in this office when I'm around, Granger. Not since the Schane incident."

Colby winced and nodded in agreement. That one-day had affected every agent and civilian GS worker who'd been on the floor when the gunman had come in. As much as he tried to put it behind him, even he couldn't shake the idea that it had been one of his shots that had killed a man who – while he had a record for being pervert scum, may not have been guilty of anything other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe. He took a second look at the page Don was now scrutinizing. "You see something there I missed?"

Don nodded and pointed out one of the names. "Yeah. Interesting that one of the names on this particular page is one that appeared on a flagged data packet."

He glanced over his boss's shoulder to read the name. "Roberto N. Socarro? No rank listing, why would NCIS tag his missing person's file?"

"Because he's a person of interest." Yelena's voice startled both agents. "As is George Ivers, the other flagged data packet. As for the female who's file was flagged, let's just say the Navy doesn't take too kindly to people posing as Naval pharmacy technicians to obtain large quantities of certain controlled substances from a number of our bases throughout the country."

"So the woman's a missing thief. What's Ivers wanted for?" Don didn't move from the chair he'd commandeered so Yelena leaned against the desk as he had done earlier. Colby started to get up from his seat, but Yelena waved his silent offer off so he stayed put – feeling like his mother was watching and not approving of his actions.

"The Marine Corps is very serious in it's pursuit of the civilian husband of a murdered Dubya Emm. Ivers wife, Sergeant Emmaline Ivers, was found shot to death in their home in Oceanside two years ago. He was missing and in the course of the investigation I found out he'd wiped out their joint bank account the day of the murder. So I filed a missing persons report on George and flagged his file. I want that sorry SOB's ass in my brig." Colby suppressed a shudder. He'd been a little confused by the "dubya emm" term – until he remembered that stood for Woman Marine – but the sheer ferocity of Yelena's desire to see the man who had, probably, shot and killed a fellow Marine … reminded him a lot of his mother, Catherine Roberta Larson Granger.

"And the story behind Socarro?"

"Is none of your business unless, and until, John Bones Doe is proven to be him." The smile that graced her face could've been called 'sweet' – until you looked at her eyes. The normally blue-gray hazel color had gone as cold and hard as battle steel and Colby found himself hoping Don wouldn't push Yelena into revealing the information unless she was required to.

"Fine. Need to know basis on Socarro. I can handle that. Probably some nasty internal NCIS investigation we 'febbies' wouldn't want to get in the middle of anyway." Don stood up, Colby followed suit, as did Yelena, and walked toward the cubicle's 'door.' "You going to head back to Pendleton, Dunbar, or staying in Los Angeles with Doctor Meese and Agent Goldblum?"

That was news to Colby. He'd assumed that once the two NCIS personnel had gone as far as they could on the bone puzzle of John Doe, they would've headed back to Camp Pendleton themselves. Of course, he didn't know if they were done…

"No, I'm heading back. Lenny and Mouse are using a standing account NCIS has with the Wiltshire to stay in town until they've gotten a positive ID on the vic. I plan on heading back to base, or maybe down to San Diego, to see how much I can dig up over the weekend on Ignacio Ramirez's background."

"You sure you should be driving, 'Lena?" The nickname slipped out before he could think about it and Colby felt a light blush rise up through his face as Dunbar turned and looked at him.

"I'll be fine, Granger. If I leave now I should be back to post in under two hours – providing the traffic south out of this town is lighter than the traffic coming in here was earlier today."

Don pulled his credential wallet out of a back pocket, slipped one of his business cards out and handed it to Yelena. "If you find anything or need to get in touch with me before Monday morning, my number here as well as my cell are listed there."

Yelena smiled at Don. "Thank you, Eppes, I doubt it'll be necessary though."

Colby waited until Don was out of easy earshot, though the man did seem to have pretty damn sharp auditory senses, until he spoke up. "Yelena, please … I don't want you to go back to post. You're tired, you haven't eaten, if you wreck out on the way back to Pendleton—" He stopped when she put a finger up on his lips.

"Colby, it's sweet that you worry about me, really, but I need to get back. I promise to stop and get something to eat on the way – as well as a coffee or something equally caffeinated – and I will call you the minute I walk back into either my house or my office at Camp Pen, all right?" With that, and peck on the cheek that happened so fast it could've been mistaken for an accident had anyone seen it, she was gone.

He wandered back to his desk, logged in on his computer, checked his emails and the status of a couple of cases due to go to court soon, then – after thirty minutes or so, gave up all pretenses and decided what he had to do. Leaving a voice mail for Don, as well as sending an email to cover his behind, Colby made plans to spend the weekend outside of Los Angeles – helping NCIS-West with a case.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

It was approximately four hours after she'd left the LA field office of the FBI that Agent Yelena Dunbar pulled up to the North gate at Camp Pendleton and, instead of being waved through like she expected, the Marine Sentry on duty waved her aside. Following his non-verbal directions, she pulled her Chevy Tahoe over to the side, wondering if something had come in on the threatening chatter Counter-Intel had picked up earlier and the base was operating under heightened security.

"Agent Dunbar?"

She looked at the young man's rank, barely visible in the sodium colored streetlights, "Yes, Lance Corporal?"

"Ma'am, thought you should know, South Gate admitted that FBI agent you warned us about and escorted him to the NCIS building at approximately 1930hrs."

Yelena smiled at the Marine. "Thank you, Lance Corporal. I'll head straight to the office – might want to warn patrol I'm probably going to exceed the speed limit – but only by a few klicks."

"Yes, Agent. Do watch for the poor bastards who were dumb enough to have to perform some scut detail out in the back of beyond, will ya?"

"Right, no running over my fellow Marines." She waved the Lance Corporal off as he waved her onto the base. Less than 100 yards from the North Gate she flipped her headlights up to high, maintained a speed below 35 mph – 5 mph above the posted limit - and kept her eyes peeled for wandering Marines in desert camies. More than likely the 'poor bastards' referred to by the Sentry were a unit who'd pissed off their butter bar and, as a way to show them who was boss, the butter bar had them out in the middle of the night picking trash up off the base's wilderness preserve.

It took her longer than the usual 30 minutes to run from the entrance gate to the building housing the Naval Criminal Investigation Services offices, but when she pulled into the slot reserved for her use, she noticed there were only two other vehicles in the lot. One was a Security Police jeep, probably the roving patrol checking up on the assigned sentries, and the other car was the one she knew Colby Granger drove – having been a passenger in it more than one that day. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard; if he had arrived when the Lance Corporal at North Gate had stated – 1930hrs – then he'd been stuck in the building cooling his heels for well over one and a half hours. Just then her cell phone vibrated on her waistband and she yanked it out of its holster to glance at the number of the incoming call briefly before answering.

"Dunbar."

"Thought you were going to call when you got in?"

She laughed as she opened her door, climbed out and slammed it shut again. "Granger, you worry wart, I just pulled onto the post. Stay right where you are, I'm just outside the building and coming in." She didn't give him much of a chance to respond, just slapped the phone closed, effectively hanging up on him.

Yelena was a little surprised to see Corporal Bayyard on duty again. "Nick, don't you ever get some off time?" She asked as she crossed over the security threshold.

"Yes'em, I do. However, tonight, I am pulling a favor for Sergeant Sernac who needed tonight off to attend a bachelor party."

She shook her head. "As long as this party doesn't end up getting my team called out like the last one did—" She left the threat unspoken.

"No chance of that, Top. It's over in Oceanside proper and since most of the partiers are all 'recovering' from our fine Dry Out program, I doubt they'll even be a problem for the civilian Police." He nodded toward the elevators, "Your Febbie's upstairs cooling his jets in your office. I had the boys here stash him up there with access to your coffee supplies."

"Oh, geeze, thanks, Nick. You roving tonight?" He only nodded in response. "What platoon pissed off their butter bar and is roaming around in the dark past North access road?"

"That would be Lieutenant Thompson's command out of second mechanized division. Don't worry too much about them, Gunny Weber has everything well in hand."

"Thompson fresh out of OTS?" That got her another nodded response. "Dumb ass. Oh well, the Marine Corps is always looking for a few good men and women, the rest we make officers and put a Gunny on them."

"You know it, Agent. Did your share of that duty, huh?"

"Just once, Bayyard, just once." She waved as she entered the stairwell and effectively ended the conversation with Bayyard. He really was too good to waste in Security Police, so she'd waged a very subtle war on him for well over 8 months, trying to get him to ask for a transfer into NCIS. He was weakening, if his constant volunteering for sentry or patrol duties around the building were anything to go by.

She exited the stairs and walked the final steps that carried her to the door leading to her team's office space, since the remodel was still a mess and she hadn't gotten her real office back – yet, and looked in through the glass door to see Granger sitting at her desk with his feet propped up on the desktop. And his back half turned toward the back of the building where she'd come up the stairwell.

"Granger," He jumped, his feet hitting the floor and spinning the chair underneath him around even as his hand moved toward the sidearm on his hip. "Sitting with your back to a door? Thought the Eff-Bee-Eye trained its people better than that."

He had the dignity to look beyond her at the door that, really, didn't look like a door. "That's just wrong … what took you so long getting here, 'Lena?"

She moved around to her desk, shoo'ing him out of her chair with a hand gesture. "I had to stop to talk to someone, couldn't find her at the house, had to search through all the buildings on the farm." She booted up her email program and, seeing more than one missive with a certain symbol next to it's icon, she reached under the desk and pulled up what looked like a thumb drive but was, in actuality, a security key.

"Who would you have to talk to for nearly two hours?"

"Mi abuela."

He looked confused. "Your grandmother? 'Lena, you told me your family is back east?"

Yelena looked at the last secure email – a missive from Counter Intelligence about wanting to meet with her ASAP on Monday morning about the Socorro file – and sent it to the recycle bin with a noise of disgust before looking up at Colby and answering his question. "Most of my family, yes. However, my father's family, my biological father that is, is here in California. Just north of the base in the San Onofre community."

She watched as he seemed to sit back on the top of Sunny's desk and think about what she'd said. "So, 'Dunbar' is your … adopted name?"

"Yes. John Hunter Dunbar met my mother, Elizabeth, when I was two and a half and, once they married, he adopted me. He's the only father I've ever known. My biological father, Robert Navarre, died in Vietnam shortly before I was born." She shrugged off his expression of – she wasn't sure it was concern or pity; she wanted neither – before continuing. "Anyway, mi abuela – Yeva Romanov Navarre – runs the family farm pretty much by herself since Efrain, her husband, passed away five years ago."

"And you HAD to talk to her tonight?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I need her to contact mi tia Marie so I can speak with her." She let out a sigh. "Look, Colby, there's a lot more I should tell you – and I will – but not right now. My aunt Marie seems to resent my presence, something about her brother marrying 'outside the community', and only mi abuela can get her to agree to even listen to me."

Colby nodded. "Fine, I get that family can be a little – complicated – did you even find time to eat or did you 'forget' that you promised me to eat before you left LA?" He didn't get a verbal response; the mere mention of eating had Yelena's stomach rumbling in protest. The two of them shared a laugh over the tables being turned. "Right, so let's find some place to eat and then, if you would, point me in the direction of a decent hotel—"

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Colby … okay, this is going seem forward of me but, I have a place with a really nice guest room and no roommates." She waited for him to respond, which he was slow in doing. "All right, think about it. In the mean time, I've not had a chance to get to the commissary this week so you get to choose between Denny's just outside the main gate in Oceanside; a all night dive on Harbor Ave where a lot of Marines hang out because the food's good and the beer is always cold; or we could drive up toward north gate and visit the 24 hour mess hall in the Mechanized Marine division area."

He closed the distance between them, literally moving around the desk to stand over her and pulled her to feet. "'Lena, it's not that I don't appreciate the offer but … let's face it, we've not exactly had any luck in the keeping our hands off each other department." His grin was infectious and not at all shy. "But, yeah, let me think about it for a second—Okay, I accept your offer. Now, can we go eat before your stomach decides to leap from your body in search of sustenance?"

She leaned in and kissed him, on the cheek. "Sure, just grab your overnight sack from your car and meet me outside. I think Denny's is probably our best bet, their coffee's better than most and the staff there is Marine friendly." Yelena shut down her computer, reminding herself to be 'away' from Camp Pendleton when NCIS-Counter Intel showed up bright and early Monday. She then showed Colby how to access the 'hidden' stairwell – it wasn't really hidden it just hadn't been designated yet in the remodeling – and the two of them drove in her vehicle to Denny's.

"Remind me to run you by Visitor services in the morning, CeeJay … we need to get you a visitor's pass and sticker, especially if you're going liaise for the entire, unknown duration of this case."

"It's a department issued sedan…"

"Doesn't matter, if you drive it on a regular basis, we need to get it tagged to enter the base whenever you come around."


	5. Chapter 5

See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

**Part Five**

The Hostess at Denny's greeted them and silently showed them both to a table in the back, and quiet, section away from the small bar. She left menus for them both and, after asking Colby what he wanted to drink, returned a few minutes later with a carafe of coffee, two cups and a bowl of creamers. Both placed orders for burgers and, when the waitress has gone, Yelena pulled a file out of a leather bound portfolio she'd brought in with her.

Colby watched as she flipped open the file, placed it on the table and then started to pen notes on the legal pad tucked inside the folio. "'Lena …" he started to protest, then stopped. He was seeing a side of her she hadn't shown him in the five days they'd actually dated and it was kind of interesting.

"Sorry, I know I should be a better host than this, CeeJay, but if I don't work on the Ramirez case while I'm actually thinking about, I'll be up half the night trying to reconstruct thoughts and notes from mid-air." She scribbled a few more lines of tight script on the page, and then flipped over a page in the file over to expose the first of several photographs taken at the scene in Joshua Tree. Colby just shook his head, poured her another cup of coffee and then tried not to chuckle when some nosey Nellie on her way to the ladies room looked over Yelena's shoulder and gasped.

"There's a reason you shouldn't leave those laying around in public view." He teased the NCIS agent as he gently tossed a napkin over the more offensive photos.

"Yeah, yeah … and some people should just mind their own beeswax." Yelena made it a point to just stare at the nosey Nellie when she passed by their table again on her way back from the bathroom. When the waitress brought their food, Yelena finally put away the photos and closed the file. "Thanks, Jinni."

"No problem, Sarge. You need a refill on the coffee yet?" The young woman picked up the carafe, topped off both mugs on the table, and then shrugged. "Let me go refill this anyway. Be right back."

Colby watched as the waitress disappeared out of the dining area. "You know the waitress' first name, 'Lena?"

She just nodded. "Yeap. Last name too. Jinni is Nick Bayyard's wife." To his surprise, Yelena engaged the younger woman in conversation when she came back with the full carafe. "So, Jinni, you're working the night shift because Nick is?"

Jinni just smiled. "Naturally. You must have seen him earlier to know that." Yelena nodded. "Thought so. So you got a new Probie you're training up or is this actually a date-date, Sarge?"

Colby barely managed not to choke on the mouthful of fries he'd just started chewing on when Dunbar responded. "Nope, he's not one of ours – he's Febbie. Working a case with the poor civilians."

"Oh lord, Sarge, no wonder Nick said you'd probably be in a **mood**." Jinni stuck out a hand to Colby, who grasped it as he finally cleared his windpipe. "Jinni Bayyard, my hubby is Sergeant Nick – who you've met…Agent--?"

"Granger. And, like Dunbar here said, I'm FBI."

"Ah, well, congratulations are in order then." Jinni smiled at Colby's obvious confusion, and then launched into an explanation. "Oh, everyone at Camp Pen knows; the last non-Marine or NCIS investigator Agent Dunbar worked with ended up at the Naval Hospital because he moved too slow. And she did that within hours of meeting the man." Jinni looked across the dining room, nodded to a customer and disappeared.

"You hurt another investigator?" Colby asked of the NCIS agent.

"Army CID puke who was supposed to be here learning how to do his job. Rule number one – listen to a superior agent and do exactly what they say." She shrugged. "He didn't and, honestly, all he got out of it was a badly twisted ankle from not checking before he jumped over the hedge. Idiot would've known there was a six foot deep drainage ditch on the other side if he'd just listened."

Colby laughed. "Let me guess, he thought he could handle it?" She nodded. "Must've been an officer. They're always dumb as dirt until a NCO gets a hold of them and knocks some sense into their skulls."

They shared a few more laughs, a couple more carafes of coffee – which Colby found out was decaf or he wouldn't've kept drinking the stuff - and once they were done eating, had both poured over the information in the file on Ramirez, trying to devise a plan to confirm all the places he reportedly had been seen prior to his disappearance. To Colby, the atmosphere between himself and Yelena was an odd combination of their first few dates and a pure working relationship. After a while, she asked Jinni for the check – which Colby wouldn't allow her to pay – and they headed back to the base.

Once at her house, she showed him to the guest bedroom upstairs, it was close to midnight and Colby had to admit he was tired and no wonder. They'd gotten awakened by a sandstorm, buffeted by the fierce winds for well over two hours, then – when they finally had a chance to grab a nap – that had been interrupted by a rather upset senior Field Agent named Don Eppes. Yelena didn't let him get away easy though – her goodnight kiss came damn close to reenergizing his batteries and probably would've had she not cut it short with what sounded like a sigh of regret before she disappeared into her own room and closed the door behind her. Letting go of his own groan of frustration, Colby closed the door to the guest room and, after changing into his shorts, collapsed on the bed and willed his body to relax so he could sleep.

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

Don pulled his Suburban into the drive at his brother's home, still cursing himself for having dropped by the office – only for a few minutes – instead of just trusting his people to do their jobs without him breathing down their necks. Especially after finally having gotten in a decent round of 18 holes against his father and being treated (loser pays) to lunch at the clubhouse. He'd gotten to Granger's voice mail at the same time he'd opened the email notification from the man. Shaking his head at Colby's actions, the man was clearly chasing Dunbar even if he wouldn't admit it, but Don couldn't understand why—

"You going to come in to listen to the game or stay out here in your truck all afternoon?"

He smiled at his father's query, cut off the powerful engine and stepped out to join Alan on the walkway to the front door. "You really think you'll be able to pull in the game on the radio, Pop?"

The look Alan sent him was, to put it mildly, utterly contemptuous. "Unlike you, I have taken the time to invest in one of the better AM receiving radios out there on the market. And if the radio can't pull it in without assistance, there is my ferrous antenna booster and the weather is good enough that we can spend the afternoon in the back yard listening." They walked into the house, Alan bypassing the kitchen to head up the stairs – presumably to grab the miraculous radio he'd been bragging on – while Don made a line for the refrigerator and the jug of decaf iced tea he'd tossed in there earlier when he'd dropped by to pick Alan up for their golf game.

Attached the to jug was a note from Charlie:

Don

Gone to the office to work on the scatter plot stuff for Agent Dunbar.

Tell Dad I managed to fix the leak under the kitchen sink – without professional assistance.

C

He chuckled at the tone of Charlie's note, then realized that – once again – Dunbar had managed to intrude on his weekend and he suddenly wasn't chuckling anymore. He poured a glass of his tea, then deciding it might be wise to double check Charlie's plumbing skills, dropped to the floor and opened up the cabinets under the sink and, finding a handy flashlight there, proceeded to try to find where the leak had been.

Don had just located the replaced hose to the hand-held sprayer when he heard Alan come into the kitchen. "Did Charlie ask you to fix that? I was hoping he'd do it himself—"

He scooted back out from under the sink and looked up at his father. "Pop, Charlie did fix it – I was just checking to make sure his repairs will hold."

Alan looked decidedly skeptical. "And? Do they pass your inspection?"

"Yeah, he replaced the whole thing instead of trying to patch-repair." He stood up after placing the flashlight back in its place under the sink.

"Well, I thought about doing that myself before I put the house on the market, but it was always easier to just patch the hose." Alan reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. "You sure you can't have a beer, Donnie?"

Don smiled. "I could, but I'd rather save that for later. Tea's fine for now. You get the game to come in on your miracle radio?"

"Yeap, its set up out on the back porch. Come on out and you can tell me why every time I turn around you're grousing under your breath about someone named 'Dunbar'." Alan lead the way out the back door and paused just before he sat down at the outdoor table. "Wait a minute … 'Dunbar' – that's the name of the agent Colby went to help this weekend, right?"

Don nodded as he sat down. "Yeah, NCIS agent. Female. I suspect she's former military…" When his father's eyebrow twitched over that, Don decided to make his father twitch a little more. "And before this case blew up in our faces, she and Colby were actually starting to date."

"Really? Young Granger may have found someone?" Alan took a pull of the bottle of beer in his hand a grin plastering itself on his face. "Well, at least Gigi and Cat now have some hope of grandkids – if you don't totally screw up Colby's chances with this Dunbar gal."

"Me? Pop!" Don stopped protesting the second he realized his father was pulling his leg. "Right… good one. I'll remember that."

"Good, so what's so bad about this Agent Dunbar that you seem to be more on edge this weekend than usual?"

"It's that obvious?" Alan didn't verbally respond to Don's question, just nodded his head. "I'm not sure why but she sets my teeth on edge. The rest of her team, the ones I've met and actually worked with, are pretty good – to the point I wouldn't mind trying to coax them over to the FBI – but Dunbar…" He launched into a detailed recap of the first time he'd butted heads with the NCIS agent until the last time, which was just the previous evening.

"So, what you're basically saying is … and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong … is that you and Dunbar are both 'alpha personalities' and that's why you can't seem to stand her? She's a female Don Eppes?"

Don stared at his father, feeling incredibly wounded, but before he could respond, Charlie's voice drifted across the back yard. "You might be on to something there, Dad." Charlie joined them from the side of the house, carrying a banker's box filled with files. "Don, you have never worked with yourself so you wouldn't know this but you and Yelena are a lot alike. Even your command styles are the same, though I think she's probably a little better at getting the best out of her people." He dropped the box on the table.

"I feel so damned loved." Don stated. "What's in the box, Chuck?"

"Don't call me-- No, you know what? Go ahead and call me 'Chuck.' I can't seem to break you of the habit." Charlie pulled the lid off the box and lifted out the top file. "This is the latest results of the scatter plot that I'm doing for Yelena, but I realized there were more files to add in and thought, what the heck, I'd bring them home and work on them. Have we – meaning you – heard from Agent Dunbar today?"

Don scowled. "Not since this morning when I checked on my voice mails and found one from Granger. He and Yelena are in San Diego chasing down leads on Ramirez."

"I'm sure they're fine and haven't found anything. I'm pretty sure Colby would call if they'd run into something that pertained to the cases." Charlie quipped as he stuffed the file back in the box and shoved the lid back down before grabbing the whole thing and wandering off to the garage.

"I'm glad someone around here has that much faith in a agent they only just met."

"Don't you trust Colby to do what's right, Donnie?"

Don didn't answer his father right away, just listened as the ballgame progressed and the crowd at the stadium roared as the player at bat hit one out of the park for the Stockton Rangers. After a while, he finally muttered a response. "Colby, I trust; it's Dunbar I'm worried about."

- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3

After spending six very frustrating, and unproductive, hours chasing even the slimmest leads in San Diego, everyone he, Yelena and even Rick Stringfield, had spoken to either couldn't recall if Ignacio Ramirez had mentioned anything about leaving the area – other than for his sea duty – or, if they could recall speaking with him prior to his going missing, they all agreed he should've taken the Navy up on the offer of the Chaplin's service and seminary schooling. Even the man's fiancée stated that she was surprised he hadn't even been tempted to be a preacher, that he would've made an excellent priest – except he loved women. Ignacio's mother, when Colby and Yelena had talked with her just after noon, had confided in both of them that if he and Dulce Hurtado (the fiancée) hadn't fallen in love, he had been thinking about going to learning how to be a Catholic priest.

Colby had managed to convince Yelena, after their last stop, to let him drive for a while – even though they were in her Chevy Tahoe – and she'd surprised him by agreeing. She used the down time to pull out a compact laptop from the storage area and started to type up her notes.

"You couldn't wait to do those until we got back to post?" He asked her as he pulled onto I-5 heading north.

"No—" Her fingers clacked on a few more keys before she finished, "I have trouble reading my own notes and, to be honest, I don't write everything down until I'm putting them together in my official notes. These," she flapped the little notebook in her hand, "are my unofficial notes and will never see the light of a courtroom. As I only use them to prompt recall of conversations and that is what I write up."

"You don't have to turn in your notebooks?" He was feeling a little jealous if that was the case, every single notebook he ever used to take field notes in for the FBI had to be filed with the case reports. No exceptions.

"Yes, I do, but I have yet to meet the lawyer who can read my notes – it is a form of short-hand that no one but me can read – so I got into the habit of doing electronic notes shortly after I was transferred out here." The clicking noises started up again and Colby glanced over to see Yelena had started typing again.

"Bet I know someone who could figure out your notes, 'Lena—"

"Probably, but if you ask Dr. Eppes to try, I may have to do something drastic to you, CeeJay."

"Ooh, promise?"

The fingers stopped clicking on the keyboard and he was pleased when her laughter filled the interior of the Tahoe. After a few minutes of chuckling, she went back to work on her notes – only pausing to plug a cord and power converter into the nearest cigarette lighter to save the laptop's battery – until she felt him shift back into the right lane in preparation of getting off at the south gate entrance for Camp Pendleton. "No, CeeJay – keep heading north, I need to stop in San Onofre this afternoon."

He shrugged as he accelerated past the exit ramp and then slid back into the fast lane. "You didn't think to tell me that before I got on the freeway?"

"Sorry – I called my grandmother while you were talking with Rick. My aunt is going to be at the farm this evening and Abuela thinks she can get mi tia to listen to me."

"You don't sound very confident, 'Lena."

"I'm not. Marie can be extremely pig-headed. Trust me, after I speak with her and a few more things come in, I'll tell you what's going on. All right?"

She must have sensed his aggravation at not knowing what was so damn important about talking with an aunt who seemed to have 'issues' with her niece – especially in the middle of a case that was proving to be one dead end after another. He'd even tried to wheedle the 'why' of the side trip to her grandmother's place the previous evening while they were waiting for the clerks at the Visitor's Center to finish processing her request to get him a semi-permanent Visitor's Pass and ID. He had about as much luck then as he'd just had and he decided that, maybe, when they got closer to San Onofre, he'd try one more time.

Colby pulled off I-5 at the proper exit and followed Yelena's directions and was more than a little puzzled when they led him to a restaurant. When he shot a questioning look at her, she merely shrugged. "I need a cup of coffee and maybe a sandwich, especially as we missed lunch?" He had to agree with her, as he was feeling a little starved, but when she pulled a garment bag out of the back, Colby was totally confused but decided to keep his mouth shut.

Other than the outfits she'd worn when they'd first started seeing each other, he'd never seen Yelena Dunbar wearing anything that could be considered 'feminine' until this morning. When he joined her downstairs just before seven in the morning, she'd already been up for a while – if the files strewn all over her kitchen table was any indication – and he'd been surprised to see her wearing a frilly, light blue _shirt_ that actually emphasized her figure. When she stood up to grab him a cup of coffee, he nearly let out an appreciative whistle – the jeans she had put on that morning were very form fitting without being obscene – but restrained himself, not knowing what her reaction would be. The shirt wasn't tucked in and proved to be just long enough that he hadn't been aware that she was carrying until she handed him the coffee and, without thinking about, he wrapped his free hand around her waist and gave her a kiss good morning and he felt the handle of her Stringfield under his hand.

Shaking his head at her rather odd and secretive behavior, Colby followed Yelena into the diner and snagged a table as she walked back to where she had to have known the bathrooms were. When the waitress, a young woman of about eighteen or nineteen, came over – he asked for a glass of iced tea for himself and the largest mug of coffee the place had for Yelena. The girl nodded and made sure he knew to find the menu under the glass tabletop and left to get the drinks. Colby had sat like he usually did in a strange place – with his back to the nearest wall and facing the main entry, which meant he totally missed seeing Yelena coming out of the ladies room and really didn't notice her until she tossed the garment bag on the bench seat across from him. For the second time that day, Colby found himself stunned by her appearance.

Yelena had changed from the blue jeans into a dark brown suede-looking _skirt_ that fell past her knees and flowed like a cloud around her ankles, which were encased in a pair of riding boots whose leather matched the color of the skirt. And she'd also taken her hair down from the braided pony tail she'd worn most of the day and, except for pulling the bangs back away from her face, let it hang freely down her back. He slid out of his seat and, with a 'after you' gesture, let her slide into the inside part of the bench seat before he slid in next to her – knowing she, like he, also preferred to sit with her back to a wall and for the same reasons.

"Wow, a skirt … impressive." He nudged her with his shoulder as his hand moved toward her thigh – just to see if the skirt was as soft as it had looked. It was.

"Granger, I didn't do this for you." She bitched, but he noticed she didn't remove his hand from her thigh either. "Mi abuela understands my wearing pants, even denims, but Marie—" She shook her head. "Just stay out of her line of fire and you'll be okay."

Colby shook his head. "Is she that old fashioned?" Before she could answer, the waitress returned with their drinks and they placed orders for their sandwiches. He ordered a simple bacon-cheese burger while Yelena opted for something called a Californian BLT – which, when he found it on the menu, was nothing more than your standard BLT, but with added avocado and alfalfa sprouts.

Yelena fiddled with her coffee, actually adding creamer to it when she usually took it black, before answering. "CeeJay, Marie is … well, she's a little resentful of my mere existence. My father married a 'gringa' and then had the misfortune to die in combat in 'Nam. My mother moved back east after that and I was born in Virginia. I didn't even meet my father's family until I'd been in California for well over 6 months and, even then, it was mi abuela Yeva Navarre who sought me out, not the other way around. However, Marie got it in her head that I contacted Yeva and, well … she's worried I'm after some sort of inheritance."

Colby nodded, having seen more than his fair share of inheritance scuffles back home in Idaho before leaving to join the Army. "From your tone … I'm guessing the last thing you want is any sort of bequest?"

"Exactly. But Marie, she doesn't seem to get it." The waitress came back with their sandwiches and for a few minutes, conversation stopped, until Yelena put her sandwich down. She wiped her hands on the napkin, took a sip of her coffee and then proceeded to get his total attention when her warm hand landed on his upper thigh. "Colby … I'm going to warn you; Abuela Yeva is going to be thrilled to see you."

"Why?"

She smiled at him. "You're male, you're about the right age – i.e. not dead – and unless you tell her otherwise, not gay. She's going to see you as a potential 'mate' for her only granddaughter."

He smiled and made eye contact with her. "Well, I'm not going to tell her I'm gay … and I happen to think she might be right about the whole 'potential mate' thing. That is, if the granddaughter thinks that way too?" Colby got the answer he was hoping for as Yelena leaned in and kissed him.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Michael Meese looked up from the body he was helping Claudia Gomez wash down when Lenny Goldblum came into the autopsy bay waving a file. "Hey, Mouse! Got another possible hit off the dental database. Oooh…" The older agent stopped beside the Doctor and gazed upon the victim on the table. "No obvious signs of bodily trauma, young, blond, Caucasian male … natural causes or something a little harder to detect?"

Doctor Gomez shook her head before she answered. "Sheriff's Office wasn't sure, which is how he ended up on my table." The young Latina medical examiner nodded at Michael. "Thanks for the assistance, Dr. Meese. I've got him from here if you want to go perform the comparison check on your John Bones?"

He smiled at her as he stripped off his gloves. "I shall do that and come back to see if you need more assistance, Dr. Gomez." He walked by Lenny, snagging the file from the Agent's hand as he did, and started to study the contents before entering the autopsy bay set aside for NCIS' John Bones Doe. Some of the dental x-rays looked plausible, from what he could recall, but Michael wasn't sure they'd prove to belong to the unidentified male.

"Doctor Meese, you are one smooth operator." Lenny said as they entered the bay where the bones lay on the stainless steel table.

"Whatever do you mean, Lenny?"

"You're not foolin' me, Mike … you're buttering up Doc Gomez in hopes she will look the other way when you 'mistakenly misappropriate' certain items from this office." Lenny turned on the glowbox that would hold the x-rays in place while the Naval Medical Examiner compared them to the teeth left in the skull.

Michael put the slightly enlarged films on the box, then picked up the skull and held it like a true Shakespearian performer, gazing into the empty eye sockets. "'Alas, poor Horatio, I knew him, my friend…' Shall we see if we've finally identified you, young man?" He put the skull down and picked the lower jaw with its intact molars.

Lenny was chuckling. "Doc, you are so screwy sometimes."

He just smiled. "At least I don't talk to the deceased as if they can hear me and respond."

"Who does that?" Agent Goldblum asked, startled.

"Oh, just a rather eccentric – and distant – relation of mine." Michael slipped his glasses back on and peered at the left back intact molar and then looked over at the corresponding x-ray photo. He sighed as he put the jawbone back down on the towel-strewn table, towels that were there to cushion the bones to keep the brittle evidence from fracturing. "No match. Sorry, fella. Maybe the next possible will prove to be you."

"Mike, that's just creepy." Lenny was staring at him.

"What is?"

"You just spoke to John Bones like you were channeling your 'rather eccentric and distant relation'. It was disturbing!"

Michael just smiled at Lenny until the Agent, who'd worked with him for nearly 10 years, slowly backed out of the autopsy room – looking like he was seriously considering calling the loony squad. "At least I didn't start telling hoary old war stories like my cousin."

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Colby couldn't help it, his jaw hit his lap when Yelena pulled onto the road that was crossed by a wrought-iron sign proclaiming that you were entering Aritza Farms, Incorporated lands. He tried to keep his voice nonchalant as his brain caught up with tongue and jaw. "So, your grandmother and aunt work here, right?"

"Yeap." Yelena took her eyes off the road long enough to look at him. "I'm guessing you know the Aritza Farms name?"

"If they're the same ones who produce the best American grown jumbo sized pistachios … yes." His companion let out a laugh as she returned her gaze to the road before her. "What? What is so funny, 'Lena?"

"You are, Colby. You're drooling."

He shrugged as he smacked his lips. "Yeah, well, I've been a fan of pistachios and Aritza Farms' specialty short-bread pistachio cookies since I was a small boy of six years."

"I have a hard time believing you were ever 'small' … and you just ate!"

"Yeah, well, there's always room for pistachios … do they have a gift shop here where I can pick up a few things?"

"Yes, but the gift shop is closed during the off season. However, I don't think you're going to have a problem getting what you might want." She admitted as she pulled her Tahoe to a stop in front of what looked like a fairly large hacienda.

"What makes you say that? Your grandmother knows the owners or something?" He climbed out on the passenger side even as Yelena got out from behind the wheel and came around to join him.

He turned to face back toward the house from watching Yelena approach him when the sound of a door opening on the portico and an older, but still handsome, woman stepped out. Yelena tapped him on the shoulder, pulling his attention back to her. "Colby, my grandmother IS the owner." She nodded toward the woman on the portico, "Mi Abuela, Yeva Romanov Aritza-Navarre."

The older woman approached and took Yelena into a hard embrace before letting go and turning to face Colby. The woman's eyes were oddly calculating and even though they weren't the same color as Yelena's the overall shape was decidedly similar "And who have you brought to the farm, Yelena? Hmm? Someone I should look at as a friend, a coworker of yours or something more, I hope?"

"Abuela!" Colby tried not to chuckle at Dunbar's incensed tone or the way she blushed, which is probably a good thing, as the sharp gaze of her Abuela was now focused on him. "Grandmother Yeva, this is Special Agent Colby Granger, FBI. He's been assisting me on a case that is rather a tangle between our two agencies."

Yeva Romanov looked at her granddaughter. "This is the case you needed to talk with Marie about?"

"It's possibly related, but I'm not one-hundred percent sure. Yet. Is Marie inside?"

The older woman nodded. "In the solarium. Go on in, I'll entertain Agent Granger while you speak with your tia." Colby found his arm, his non-weapon arm he couldn't help but notice, taken up by Yeva Navarre as Yelena crossed the covered and wide porch to enter the hacienda. "Now, Agent Granger … I'm pretty sure my granddaughter can handle her aunt without your capable backup abilities, so how about I give you a small tour of our facilities?"

"I would like that, ma'am. I've been a huge fan of Aritza Farms' pistachio and other products since I was younger."

"Good. We've been working on a couple of new products, maybe you'd be willing to take a couple of taste tests?"

Colby had been meaning to come down to Aritza Farms to take one of their tours since being assigned to Los Angeles, but the undercover work then working to rebuild trust after everything was said and done with the Lancer and Carter cases … he just hadn't found the time. Now he was here and there was no way he was going to miss this opportunity.

He put his hand over Abuela Yeva's hand on his arm and smiled down at her. "Ma'am, I'd be honored."

- - - - - - - - - -

Yelena entered the cool interior of the Aritza hacienda, crossing the entrance area past the living room toward the back of the house and stopped on the threshold of the solarium. Marie Aritza-Navarre stood in the room, staring out over the small, family-only grove of citrus and avocado trees; her long hair was oddly touched heavily with gray strands, belying her own mixed heritage as most Hispanic women of Tia Marie's age rarely had gray hair. Of course, not knowing the fate of your only child would tend to put more than a few grays on anyone's head.

"Tia Marie?" She fought not to flinch when the gaze that landed on her scorched Yelena with disdain.

"Agent Dunbar. My mother said you wished to speak with me. Have you heard something new about my Bobby?" Yelena tried not to notice her aunt had, once again, failed to acknowledge their blood relation.

"Yes, his name cropped up in yet another investigation. Nothing definitive, mind you, but I thought I should be nice and give you an update anyway."

"This had to be done in person, you couldn't just tell my mother and have her pass it on to me?" Marie Navarre had returned her gaze back out to the orchard, effectively turning her back on her niece.

"I wouldn't do that, Marie, even if I weren't related to you." Yelena spoke clearly, concisely and trying not to grind her teeth. "No mother of a missing sailor wants to hear news about her child over the phone or from someone who isn't a part of the child's service or chain of command."

Marie snorted in contempt. "Mothers … what would you know about motherhood and what mothers want, Agent Dunbar? By the time I was your age, my Bobby was already in junior high school, and yet, there you stand, barren of children and in a job that is rightfully a man's."

She'd had enough of her aunt's attitude. Approaching the woman who was, as she had pointed out, old enough to be her own mother, Yelena reached out and physically turned Marie to face her. "Look, you don't like me. Fine, I get that, Tia Marie. But when I'm here as an Agent of the Federal government you WILL look at me when I tell you that your son's name, who may or may not be a traitor to his country, has come up in yet another damn investigation. Especially as ever time I open his damn file to check for updates, I get another damn visit from the snakes in Counter Intelligence or Internal Affairs."

Marie Aritza-Navarre threw her shoulders back and stood up very straight after Yelena let go of her arm, all while glaring at the NCIS Agent with her deep brown eyes. "My Bobby is not a traitor, if you were really family you would know that."

"I met the man once before his last deployment and then only for an hour or so. How in the hell would I know what he is and isn't capable of? Going off your behavior, the way you treat family members, I'd say it's at least possible that Senior Petty Officer Roberto Efrain Navarre Socarro is, indeed, capable of selling out his fellow countrymen." Yelena stepped back and turned on her heel to leave, no longer wanting to be in the same room as her aunt.

She didn't make it to the door before Marie spoke up. "Wait. Please." Yelena stopped, but didn't turn to face her father's sister. "Agent Dunbar … Yelena … how did Bobby's name come up this time? What sort of case are you working? Can you tell me?"

Yelena closed her eyes and let out a sigh before turning back to face her aunt. "His missing person's file was kicked out as a possible match to someone found in the desert."

"Dead?"

"Yes."

"It will not be Roberto. When you have a child, if God so blesses you in the future, you will understand how I know." Marie didn't wait for Yelena to respond, but turned away immediately and exited the solarium and walked out into the orchard of fruit trees.

"I hope to God you're right, Tia Marie." Yelena spoke aloud, before turning to leave the room the way she'd come in, through the hacienda. Her job, distasteful as it was, was done and she needed to find Colby and get away from the farm before her grandmother scarred him for life. There was no telling what Yeva was telling him or, worse, asking him and Yelena didn't want the one fella she had even a passing fancy in getting chased off by an overzealous matchmaker of a grandmother.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Colby was exiting the gift store of the farm, following Abuela Yeva, holding one very large gift bag in one arm while holding the door for Yelena's grandmother, when Yelena located them. First thing he noticed was that she did not look at all happy, which made him wonder what had transpired between her and her aunt.

"Yelena?" Yeva inquired, then sighed when she got a good look at her granddaughter's face. "Again? I would've thought … Marie will learn, eventually, to treat you like familia." She turned to face him after making sure the door to the gift shop was locked tight. "Agent Granger, you are a good man, take care of my granddaughter; even if you aren't officially partnering each other. She's the only grandchild I have left." Yeva gave him a pat on the arm, walked over to Yelena and gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek before walking back to her house.

He came up beside the NCIS agent as she stood watching her grandmother walk away. "I'm guessing your talk with your aunt didn't go well?" He was rewarded with a disdain-filled snort.

"You could say that." She turned around to face him and her gaze immediately dropped to the bag. "I see you sweet talked Yeva into letting you grab a few things from the shop."

"She gave in to the Granger Charm." He held up the bag so Yelena could peer down inside. "Two pounds of natural pistachios, two boxes of the short-bread cookies and—" Colby reached into the bag to pull up a small package, "—something your Abuela swears is still in marketing research. Pistachio coffee. I may just have to spring this on the office when they're not looking."

Yelena looked at him, her face a study in skeptism. "You work with men and women who are well-armed coffee drinkers and you're going to screw around with their java? Granger, do you have a death wish?" She unlocked her Tahoe by remote and he stashed the bag behind the seat before climbing into the passenger seat as Yelena went around and got in behind the wheel.

"Have you smelled this coffee? Its heavenly."

"If I'd known you tolerated flavored coffee, I could've given you a sample of that before you bought a pound." She started up the car and, with a little maneuvering, pulled back down the drive and back out to the main drag through San Onofre.

Colby wasn't surprised that the youngest member of the Aritza Farms family already had gotten a 'preview' of something that the test kitchens had just started to send out to official tasters. What did surprise him was how quiet Yelena was now that they were back on the road. "I'm guessing the talk with your aunt didn't go well?"

"Don't, CeeJay."

"What?"

"Don't pry." He couldn't help but hear how her teeth were clenched as she spoke or fail to notice how her hands strangled the steering wheel.

"Sorry, 'Lena." Colby wisely let the silence reign until they passed through the North Gate of Camp Pendleton. He thought they were heading back to her offices, but was more than a little startled when she pulled off the road and toward a remote area of the base. "'Lena? Where are we going?"

"Firing range. I need to take care of a little something before heading to the house." She glanced over at him for the first time since she'd warned him off of prying. "I'll spot you the ammo if you want to get in some range time with the real service, Granger."

He threw his arm up across the seat behind her. "Are you referring to NCIS or the Corps, Dunbar?"

She let out a laugh. "Well, we both know my Agency is kind of treated like the ugly step-child of the intelligence services … so how about a little friendly competition between Army and Marine?"

"What's the stakes?" He asked as she pulled into a parking area in front of a non-descript building.

"What do you want them to be, Army?" She asked as she threw the Tahoe into park and turned off the engine.

He leaned across the gap between them and dropped a kiss on her ear before pulling back and opening his door. "Guess, Agent Dunbar." Colby closed the truck and waited for her on the sidewalk, maybe it was more accurate to call it a troopwalk, while double-checking to make sure his sidearm, both of them actually, were still securely seated in their holsters. Both the one on his hip and the other he had tucked away at his ankle.

She joined him on the walkway and was smiling as she led the way into the range's office. "You're on, Agent Granger. I just hope you know what you're getting into."

"I do. Do you?"


	6. Chapter 6

See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

**Part Six**

"Where in the hell did you learn to shoot like that?"

"Would you believe me if I said I never picked up a firearm prior to joining the military?"

"No."

"Smart. I was trained in firearm safety and use, handguns, rifles and shotguns, before I was 12. Also hunted once in a while, everything from squirrel to deer."

"Figures. And your military training only enhanced what you already knew, right?"

"Yeap. I guess you had pretty much the same sort of background?"

"Pretty much. Not too much handgun training until I joined, but plenty of rifle and, of course, hunting." Colby looked at the targets the range master had scored, still impressed that Yelena had barely managed to lose. Half a point, that's all that separated their scores and she only lost that half point due to placing one round on the edge of ring instead of inside it. He turned his attention back to her when he heard Yelena speaking with the range master.

"I'll come back in a week or so for the yearly qualification with the rifle, Sergeant. Any chance you could register tonight's score on my official records?"

"Sure thing, Gunny. It is slightly better than the pistol qual you shot on the Stennis, huh?"

"Only because I can't fire worth a crap when the deck's heaving to and fro in the middle of a freaking typhoon." She signed off on the paperwork the Staff Sergeant handed her, then she walked back to where Colby was waiting for her. "All right, fair's fair. You won our little shoot-out … though I'll never understand how the Army managed to turn out a crack pistol shot … what forfeit do you claim?"

Colby shook his head. "Nothing too terrible, I hope." He wrapped an arm around her as they walked back to her Tahoe under the diamond-spangled sky. Night shoots have never been his favorite, but they'd actually arrived before full dusk, which might explain how he'd managed to edge her out in the scoring. "How about a night together where we don't talk about anything work-related?"

"Really? Nothing work-related? " She looked a little startled when she turned to face him in the sodium colored light from the street lamps in the gun range's parking area. "Oh! I get it, you want a repeat of our dates prior to the discovery of the Joshua Tree mess."

He opened the driver's side door and held it for her as Yelena climbed in, then, before he closed the door, he moved in and gave her a another kiss on the ear opposite the one he'd gotten earlier. "Do you blame me, 'Lena?" Colby lightly touched the nape of her neck, then applied a little more pressure and realized her shoulders were tight; something else that might have thrown off her shooting. "We've been moving pretty much non-stop since Thursday morning. A little rest and recreation just might recharge mental batteries and help us put the pieces of this case together faster."

Yelena nodded her head and, before he could move – not that he would've, she reached up, clasped the back of his neck and planted a kiss on his lips. "Who knows, Granger? Maybe if I can forget the case long enough, we might find out how compatible we might be."

Colby wasted no time getting around to the passenger seat and climbing into the Tahoe. The trip from the range to her quarters was pleasant and filled with light, bantering conversation.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Don Eppes was a well-known face to the security staff that manned the FBI building on the weekends; more to the Saturday crew than the Sunday one, but even the Sunday night shift folks knew him on sight. When he had first realized he wasn't being asked to present his credentials on those occasions that found him prowling the halls and departments of the LA Field office on a Sunday, Don took it in stride; now he was wondering just how much of his workaholism had contributed to his cardio-scare. He'd known, almost from Day One at the FBI Academy in Quantico that he was a "Type A" personality, but he thought he had it under control, until he found himself in an Emergency Room talking to a cardiologist.

Yet, here he was again on a Sunday morning, skulking through the office; checking emails, voicemails and every other type of possible communications for any word on the cases his team was working or, in one case, any word from one of his agents. He'd just closed down his email account, disgusted at not finding anything in there from either Dunbar or Granger – which probably meant their weekend of chasing leads in Diego had busted, or they were cuddled up somewhere – Don grimaced and pushed that thought from his mind, when Doctor Meese showed up just outside his cubicle.

"Can I help you, Doctor Meese?" He asked. The NCIS Medical Examiner looked both disappointed and even a little ill.

"Have you heard from Agent Dunbar yet, Agent Eppes?"

"Not a word, from her or Granger." Don couldn't help but notice how tightly Meese was holding a rolled up sheaf of papers. "Is there something in your autopsy findings we need to know about ASAP, Doc?"

"Dunbar does, yes. The rest of you can probably wait … let me try her cell phone again." Meese pulled a cell phone out of his lab jacket's pocket, then cursed. "Damn. Battery died on me."

Don, seeing an opportunity, stood up and waved at his phone. "Hey, doc, feel free to use mine. Just dial '9' to get out, after that it's pretty much a dummy phone system."

Michael Meese smiled his thanks as he took over Don's chair and dialed the number he had for Dunbar, clearly from memory, as he didn't consult his cell phone's directory. He plainly got the woman's voicemail, just as Don had earlier that morning, but Meese at least opted to leave a message for Dunbar.

"Yelena … damn it, woman, check your voicemails! Call me, ASAP, but use Lenny's number, my cell died while I was trying to get in touch with you. I need to speak with you about John Doe … Sooner rather than later."

Don watched as Meese 'strangled' the handset to his desk phone before hanging up. "Guessing you've had the same luck I've had getting in touch with Dunbar, huh?"

The Medical Examiner nodded. "It's not all that unusual to lose contact with Dunbar when she's chasing leads, but I've been trying to get in touch with her since 2200hrs—uh, 10 PM last night—and that is very much unlike her."

He concurred with Meese's sentiments. "I've had the same issue with a few of my agents, so I feel your pain." Don nonchalantly waved his free hand at the papers in Meese's grip as he raised his coffee cup. "Were you finally able to identify our John Doe or determine a cause of death?"

Meese unrolled the papers, then rolled them back on themselves in an effort to flatten them before laying them down on the desk. Face down. "Oh, I had cause of death yesterday morning, Agent Eppes. It was the confirmed identity that took until this morning."

"Really?" Don sat down in Reeves's chair and rolled over to reach for the papers, only to have Meese lay a hand flat on them. "Come on, Doc, we're supposed to be working these cases together, remember?" He could tell the doctor wasn't buying his brand of sweet talk. "All right, can you at least tell me a CoD?"

"It's just that Yelena's been catching grief—I really should tell her first but, as you pointed out, we're cooperating—" Meese picked up the papers, leafed through them and pulled off three sheets from the top and handed them over to Don before launching into an explanation. "The unfortunate man had been stabbed at least twelve times, mostly to the upper torso in the region of the third through seventh ribs. I'm pretty sure that, had I been so lucky, a thorough examination of the man's heart would've shown it was a minced mess—" Don blanched at the M.E.'s rather blunt description. "—Sorry about that, I tend to forget not everyone is used my brand of forthrightness. However, from the amount of sheer desiccation of the few pieces of connective tissue – Really, Agent Eppes! I cannot tailor my verbal report to your tender sensibilities, suck it up and deal with it – I'd have to say that John Doe was exposed to the elements of the desert for at least two months, but I suspect he was out there for nearly three full months."

Don forced the bile in his throat back down to where it belonged, he knew he shouldn't have eaten that morning – he just wasn't a breakfast person, however the doctor's report was very descriptive and Don's imagination was well versed in supplying the missing details. From viewing one too many gory crime scenes in full color. "I guess you're basing part of your timeline on the possible ID you found this morning?" Meese nodded. "But you feel you need to tell Dunbar that ID before you tell the rest of us, that about right? Due to the fact that it's connected to a case she's been working for a while, that's just a guess on my part doc, don't get your knickers in a knot." The naval medical examiner had bowed up a little when Don had suggested that Dunbar had a 'history' with the body. "Just tell me one thing, if you can, Doc?"

"Certainly, if I can, Agent Eppes."

"Is Agent Dunbar's 'involvement' with John Doe professional – as in he was a case she's been working for a while – or personal? Do I need to worry about placing her under arrest for a murder?"

Meese let out a bark of laughter that drew the attention of the few agents on the floor pulling the dreaded weekend duty. "Arrest Dunbar? My, what an active imagination you have, Agent Eppes." He chuckled for a few more moments before regaining enough control to answer the rest of Don's questions. "John Doe, whose ID I'm withholding from you on purpose just a little longer, was part of a case that Dunbar's been working for a while now. One that has garnered her visits from our Counter-Intelligence department more than once. Yelena, murder someone and leave evidence behind…." Meese started to chortle again as he got to his feet, shaking his head, grabbing the other papers from the desktop and wandering off toward the elevators.

Don watched the man go, only realizing after the doctor had entered an elevator and disappeared, that Meese still hadn't really told him anything. Even the papers still in his hands, the three sheets the man had handed him, were less than useful for providing clues to the identity of John Doe. Every place there was a spot to insert the victim's name, Meese had just put "John Doe Joshua Tree #2" or the FBI case number. He was still sitting there when his cell phone rang, causing him to jump, before he answered the call.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Yelena rolled off the couch, and away from the warm body lying there, as gently and quietly as she could. Just because her mind wasn't allowing her to sleep for more than a few hours a night, didn't mean she had to ruin Colby's sleep. Glancing at the clock on the front of her DVD player she realized she had slept for about 3 hours. Falling asleep while watching a Lethal Weapon movie, curled up in Granger's arms, wasn't her usual idea of how to spend a night with a sexy man … but then again, her body was used to confounding her plans.

She watched his face in the light filtering in from the streetlamp outside her quarters, making sure her moving about hadn't disturbed him, before getting up to her feet. But not before placing a tender kiss on his brow. Shaking her head and adjusting the sweat shirt she was wearing, yanking it down to the top of her PT shorts, Yelena padded out to the kitchen on bare feet, grabbed a glass of iced tea and a couple of Excedrin before settling down at the table, booting up her laptop and opening files – both electronic and hard copy – and started to pour over the information.

She was still adding more notes to the files when she heard her named called out in the living area. "Yelena?" Feet thumping to the floor and a creaking board announced his arrival before a sweat pants and tee shirt-clad Colby stopped in the kitchen's hatchway. "When did you get up?"

Glancing over at the clock on the wall, she started to close down the laptop. "About two hours ago. I can't believe I feel asleep during the final shoot out between Riggs and the Afrikaners." She watched as he ran fingers through his hair, making it stand up worse than it had been before he'd tried to smooth it out, which made her want to reach out and stroke the small, soft curls at the nape of his neck.

"Yeah, well, you were tired." He came over and, standing behind her chair, leaned down and embraced her and dropped a kiss behind her ear. "Or so I thought." One of his hands reached past her to snag a file from the tabletop. "What's this? Missing persons… Yelena?" Colby moved to take a chair to her left. "This isn't a current case, is it?"

"No. It's a cold case." She reached for the file, only to have him pull it back away from her. "Damn it, Colby, I need that back and it's not any of the FBI's business—"

"I think it is." He waved the file at her, after closing it. "Yelena, this missing person's name is one of those who were flagged in the information packets Sunny sent to LA. Roberto Socarro. What's up with him that you become uneasy when his name is mentioned?"

"I do not." Yelena stood up abruptly and, after snapping up her tea glass, stalked over to the refrigerator for more chilled tea.

"Yes, you do." He opened the file again and started to leaf through it again, this time taking time to study, and read aloud, the older pages in the back. "Roberto N. Socarro. Senior Petty Officer, Combat Medic. Tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, usually attached to Marine Recon or Navy SEAL teams. Discharged, less then honorable conditions. Went missing the day he was to be formally drummed out… Navarre? Roberto Efrain Navarre Socarro?" He looked up from the file in time to barely hold tight to the papers as Yelena – once again – made an attempt to secure it from him. "Isn't Navarre your Abuela's last name?"

She sank back into the chair, after carefully placing the full glassware back on the table. "Yeah, it is. My full, legal, name is Yelena Aritza-Navarre Dunbar. Why I am I not surprised you remembered Abuela Yeva's last name?" She reached up with her left hand to rub her temples, trying to loosen the tension there as she could feel a headache building but stopped when Colby grasped her right hand and, pulled it closer to his body.

"Headache?" He asked and she nodded in agreement. "Let's see if I can help you there—" She watched as he took the forefinger knuckle of his right hand and placed it in the palm of her hand, between her forefinger and thumb. Then he took his thumb and placed it on the topside of the webbing, directly above his knuckle, and started to apply pressure. Hard pressure.

"Hey!" She tried to pull her hand back, but he really had too firm of a grip on her wrist with his left hand for her to break the hold.

"Relax, 'Lena, and try to trust me, okay?"

Yelena didn't answer, just nodded and tried to ignore the pain from the spot on her shooting hand that he was squishing between his powerful fingers. The pain lasted for five full minutes before he slowly eased up on the pressure and then fully released her hand. She snatched it back to cradle it in her left hand and tried to restore blood circulation. "Damn it, Granger, that fewking hurt!"

Colby actually chuckled at her false Scots dialect. "Yeah, well, how's the head?"

She sat back and blinked. "What the hell? How did you do that?"

"Pain's gone, right?" He wasn't, quite, smirking and she just nodded in agreement. "It's an acupressure technique I learned as a young teenager. I'm not sure how it works, just know that it does and, if you need to, you can apply the pressure yourself."

"Really? I'll have to remember that." She rubbed her hand a little longer, then looked across the table at him. "Ya know, Granger, since you're awake, and I'm awake …" She used her best seductive smile on him, which got him to lean in a little closer, before she asked, "You want to go for a five mile run with me this morning?"

Colby watched as Yelena took the bulldog back to its owner, the darn thing had chased him for nearly half a mile before collapsing in a heaving, panting heap on the yard behind Yelena's quarters, and wondered how she could've ignored the dog behind them. Doing his usual cool-down exercises, mostly mild stretches that would keep him from cramping up after a 'five mile run' that had been more strenuous that his usual, what with all the up and down elevations on Camp Pendleton. He didn't – fully – realize that Yelena, as the ranking NCIS agent on the base, rated quarters in the Officers Housing until she said she had to return "Puller" to the Brigadier General, second in command of the Base, and walked to a house only four down from her own.

The silver haired, squared jawed gentleman – a poster perfect presentation of a senior Command Marine if Colby ever saw one – who came out to help Yelena secure the bulldog to his chain, waved toward Colby, so he waved back, a little concerned about what, if anything, Yelena was telling the General. She jogged back after shaking her head at something the General had said, and slipping Puller the Bulldog a treat when the older man wasn't looking, and Colby couldn't help but admire the way she moved. That she wasn't even breathing hard, or even halfway straining to catch her breath, almost made him a little jealous – but she was used to running longer distances on the roads around the base, so she was accustomed to the conditions.

"General Gooba said to tell you, you're not in bad shape for a Army Grunt." Yelena said as she came up to him and then dropped to the lawn to begin her own cool-down stretches.

Colby shook his head as he chuckled. "What is it with you Marines always putting down the Army?"

Her blue-gray gaze glanced over at him as her jaw dropped. "You really don't know?"

"Would I have asked if I did?" He sat down on the slightly fog-dampened grass in front of her and proceeded to stretch his hamstrings.

"Wow, a Grunt who doesn't know … Okay, it's a couple of things, really, but the most recent has to do with something the Secretary of the Army said to the Commandant of the Marine Corps a few years back. Something about how the Corps should be 'absorbed' into the Army since what we do is pretty 'damn redundant when the Army does it too'."

"That's bullshit." Colby spat out. "I've worked with Marine platoons in Afghanistan … what they do and what the Army Battalions do are as different as night and day!"

"Hey, Babe, I know that, you know that … but we're talking about what a Civilian appointee said to a serving member of the Corps." She leaned forward, actually rolling into side-splits, and leaned on her elbows as she watched him. "Now the other reason the Corps is always teasing the fire out of the Army … has to do with our special training regime. It's only been in the last couple of years that the Army finally adopted the idea that every soldier, from the lowliest ditch-digger, cook and file clerk to the soldier actually assigned to Infantry should be able to pick up a rifle and defend his – or her – post, whereas the Marine Corps had trained every single Marine, male or female, like that from day one in Boot, at least since the mid 70's. The first female to join the Corps did so in 1918, and then there was another wave of WoMC's who were accepted into the Corps in the 40's, mostly to free up male Marines to fight in the Island Hopping Campaign in the Pacific. So, in short, every single Marine in uniform, from the Commandant down to the most recent boot grad can defend our posts. Has the Army been able to claim that until very recently?"

Colby was impressed, not only with Yelena's grasp of her chosen military branch's history, but her flexibility. He shook his head. "No, they didn't start full combat training for all Army personnel until after I started thinking about getting out. I mean, there were a few female specialists who could probably kick butt with the best of the guys, but they were few and far between."

She sat back up, swung her legs together and hopped back to her feet. "I bet those women were in fields like, oh, law enforcement, and Criminal Investigations?"

"Busted." Colby admitted, laughing at her quick grasp of the obvious as he also got back to his feet and followed her into the house. Once inside, he followed her up the stairs, only to break off and grab his shaving kit and a change of clothes from the guest room before heading back downstairs to the full bath just outside the laundry area. Glancing at the wall clock in the kitchen as he walked through, he realized it wasn't as late as he thought it might be, which meant he ended up getting less sleep than he thought he had. It wasn't even six in the morning and, after the 45-minute five-mile run, he did some quick calculations in his head … he'd awakened to empty arms, and a lack of warmth, at roughly 0415hrs. That was after dropping off to sleep just before midnight. "Lovely, another day to survive on less than my usual six hours of sleep." He groused, as he stepped back out into the kitchen and, after finding everything he needed, setting up and starting the coffee machine. That chore done, he proceeded to get cleaned up to face the day.

He'd just stepped out of the shower and was toweling off when someone started pounding on the front, and back, doors of Yelena's house.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Jeff Phillips felt uncomfortable about the current activity Mikkelssen had set their path upon. For one thing, the vehicle they had expected in the driveway wasn't there, and there was more than one. The last time they had come to this house to talk with the registered occupant, they'd been driving a red Chevy Tahoe, not a blue one, and the dark blue 2008 Dodge Charger really made Jeff leery. However, he wasn't the senior man on the team, Rex was, so he stood there on the back steps of the house, knocking as loud as he could even as he could hear Mikkelssen pounding on the front door; all the while swearing to himself that if their target was no longer living at this address, he was going to rip Rex a new one—

He wasn't expecting the door to whip open, or to be facing down the barrel of a semi-auto before seven in the morning; however, Jeff took pride in the fact that he didn't squeak in shock or yelp in fear.

"Who the hell are you?" The towel clad, scowling man with a military officer's haircut demanded from behind the pistol.

"Sorry," He took a step back as he brought his hands up to show he wasn't – actively – reaching for the gun on his own hip. "My partner and I were under the impression that someone else still lived at this address.

The gun dropped, a few inches only, as hazel eyes flared in annoyance. "Do you often bang on a person's door before a civilized hour?"

"No, sir …" Jeff noticed movement out of the peripheral of his eye, probably Rex coming around to see why he had stopped knocking. Only if it was Mikkelssen, the man had stopped right at the corner of the house and was slowly raising his hands out away from his body. His sinking feeling that had started the minute the door had been yanked open, dropped down to his toes as he realized Rex had been correct after all and now the subject of their attention, along with the unknown male holding a gun on Jeff, had gotten the drop on them.

"My, my … Agents Lefty and Wrong, it's been, what? Six or seven months since you last harassed me?" Agent Yelena Dunbar's voice came from behind Mikkelssen and she pushed Jeff's partner forward. "Well, since you're here and I'm wide awake, why don't you two head inside? Granger? Let these two fine gentlemen in… oh my!"

Jeff took a moment to glance at Dunbar, not at all surprised to see her, but seeing as much of her as he was? Yeah, that was a bit shocking. She was wearing only a short robe that stopped high on her thighs and, unless he was mistaken, that was all she was wearing. Mikkelssen took a moment to also take in Dunbar's appearance, as well as getting an long look at the man standing in the doorway wearing only a towel, a scowl and hefting a handgun. And, unless Jeff was way off base, Dunbar was taking a good long look at how little 'Granger' was wearing, and smiling about it in a very appreciative way.

"Granger, huh?" Mikkelssen questioned. "Dunbar, you are aware of the agency's policy against fraternization between NCIS personnel?"

Dunbar snorted as she walked in behind Jeff's partner. "Go sit down in the living room, Agents Mikkelssen and Phillips. As soon as Agent Granger and I are dressed, I'll make introductions, listen to you bitch at me and then kick your asses out."

He watched as Granger walked into the downstairs bath, even as Dunbar sprinted back up stairs and he and Rex followed her directive and sat down in the recliners in the living area. "Rex … did Granger look familiar to you?"

"Yeah, but I can't place him." Mikkelssen shook his head. "If he is NCIS, I'm obligated to report this to headquarters. This, on top of Dunbar's continuous meddling in a CI case, no matter who she knows in the agency, will be enough to get her bounced right out of the service."

He glanced over at Rex, "What the hell do you have against Agent Dunbar? You've been on her case for the last three years." Sometimes, Jeff's partner confounded him.

"I just don't like agents who refuse to cooperate with other divisions, that's all, Jeff."

"And that crack about fraternization?"

"Powers of observation. Do you see anything down here that suggests one of them slept down here?" Jeff looked around, there were only the two recliners and a couch that looked more like an oversized, leather, corner chaise then shook his head. "So it stands to reason that they slept upstairs and since they were both in a state of undress when they answered our knocks and he handled his sidearm like a pro—" Rex shrugged and smirked a lascivious grin.

Yelena came back downstairs in time to hear Agent Mikkelssen's smart aleck remark and glanced over toward the guest bathroom in time to see Colby standing there in the doorway, fully dressed and seething. She caught his attention before he could say anything and shook her head. "Actually, Agent Wrong, you're so far off you're actually on the eastern seaboard. Let me make intros so I can watch you eat crow." She motioned for Colby to join her in the living area as the two visitors stood up. "Agents Mikkelssen and Phillips, this is Special Agent Granger." She waited until Rex Mikkelssen looked like a triumphant winner of a long-shot bet, before crashing his hopes. "Agent Granger is from the LA field office of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, working a joint case with NCIS. Colby? These two gentlemen are from NCIS's Counter-Intelligence division."

"Counter-Intelligence? Yelena? What the hell is going on?" Colby looked at her like she had grown another appendage.

"Give me a moment, Colby." She turned to face Mikkelssen. "So, Rex, let's hear the usual claptrap so I can kick your ass out of my house and get back to work on the homicides my team is working with Agent Granger's team."

"Wait a minute!" Phillips was staring at Colby. "That's why you look familiar! Damn! Rex, you are so busted this time."

"What the—Oh, crap." Mikkelssen looked embarrassed and, much to Yelena's surprise, he approached Colby and offered his hand in apology. "Agent Granger, I am so sorry I misconstrued your presence here and didn't recognize you."

She shook her head as Colby accepted Mikkelssen's apology and looked both uncomfortable and abashed at the attention and recognition. Stepping up to the Counter-Intelligence agent, Yelena drew his attention back to herself and away from Colby. "Rex—shall I start the usual banter for you?"

She smiled as sweetly as she could when Mikkelssen glared at her. "You should've removed the flag on the file like I have asked you too, several times, Agent Dunbar. And you never should've pulled the man's file again if you weren't going to delete the inappropriate label."

"There was nothing 'inappropriate' about any flag I've ever placed on any file, Agent Mikkelssen, and you know as well as I do that no NCIS flag on a person's file is removed until an arrest is made or until we get notification of death from the proper authorities." She glanced over at Phillips. "Jeff, since Rex is being his usual obtuse self, which file is he talking about this time? Like I can't guess."

"Socarro." Jeff Phillips replied.

Yelena returned her attention back to Rex Mikkelssen. "If you had done your damn homework, Rex, you would know I didn't pull Socarro's file, Agent Keynes did. Now, if you don't mind, I have two cases to investigate and you're wasting my, and Agent Granger's, valuable time. Have a great day, you know your way out." She pointed to the front door and, following her nose, walked into the kitchen where she found a freshly brewed pot of coffee and poured two cups. One for herself and one for Colby who came into the room after he clearly made sure the two unwanted visitors had left. She smiled ruefully at him as she handed him one of the coffee cups and propped her body up against the counter. "Sorry about that, Colby. You just got caught up in the middle of an on-going three-year running battle between myself and Agents Mikkelssen and Phillips."

He accepted the coffee and leaned up against the cabinets next to her. "At last the towel didn't fall off my hips when I drew down on Phillips. I'm not sure I could live with that story making the rounds." His grin was infectious and Yelena nearly snorted coffee up her nose.

"Damn, that would've been a sight." She gave him a very appraising look. Seeing him in just a towel had been, again, very enticing and she kept mentally kicking herself for the work-ethic that kept her from following her desires while working a case – or, in this instance, two cases.

His expression changed, turning thoughtful, as he set his coffee mug on the countertop, then he reached out and touched, then held tight, the one hand Yelena wasn't using to hold her own cup. "'Lena … you didn't seem all that surprised when Mikkelssen acted like he did once he realized who I am." She nodded. "Why is that?"

She took the time to set her own, nearly empty, cup down before she pulled him close and grasped both of his hands. "Why should I be surprised that you're a genuine American hero, CeeJay? Was I not supposed to find out that you won a Meritorious Service Medal for your part in bringing down a spy ring?"

"But you've never made any mention or hinted that you might have known… In fact, I seem to recall you were pissed to find out I was FBI Thursday morning."

"That, my dear FBI Agent Granger, was Thursday morning. In case you can't count, it's three mornings later. I don't hold grudges that long." She kept a hold of one hand as she practically dragged him behind her up the stairs and into her bedroom.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but seeing a king-sized bed damn near cut in half by a heavy board down the middle wasn't it. Part of the _split bed_ was clearly being used as a sleeping area, the other … behind the board were stacks of books, journals, portfolios and binders. Yelena walked up to the bed, picked up three of the 4" binders, flipped through two of them quickly before handing him the third. "Here, I read that one the other night when I couldn't sleep. Read the section I marked with the neon green sticky note."

Following her instructions, Colby opened the notebook and turned to the section she indicated, and felt his jaw drop when his FBI identification paperwork was revealed. "What the hell?" He turned pages; finding more and more about his career and his undercover assignment in this one book than he thought would be gathered in one location. "Yelena … how in the hell—?"

She sat down on the cleared side of the bed and motioned for him to join her. "What you see, the binder in your hands as well as all the crap behind the bundle board, that's all stuff that happened while I was on extended detached duty on the USS Stennis and my supervisors felt I had to 'catch up' on. Then there is the stuff that comes in every frigging day that I have to read just to keep up with all the new changes and developments in the ongoing 'war on terrorism' – and not just what NCIS is doing, but ALL of our intelligence services plus those of our allies."

"And my file was a part of that?" He still wasn't sure he was hearing, or seeing, what he was, even though he was actually holding the evidence in his hands.

"Yeah, it was. I didn't put two and two together until I read your file in there, but I guess I did know about your case before coming back stateside." She got up from the bed, walked over to a tall six-drawer dresser, picked a thick file up off the top and came back. She extended the file toward him and Colby wasn't sure he wanted to see what was in it – until he caught the name 'Granger, Cliffton Forrest' printed on the index tab. "Thought you might like to read that – unless it turns out the person in that file isn't your brother—"

Colby flipped open the file. "Oh, no, Cliff's my brother all right … you know him?"

"Met with him. Once. Onboard the Big E. Had to investigate charges brought against him as well as vet his security clearance – after his brother was arrested for so-called-treason."

Colby had heard the story from Cliff, how he'd pummeled a fellow Chief Petty Officer in the Enterprise's Crypto-Communications division, but only after the other CPO had bad-mouthed his little brother. "Cliff was always the more level-headed of us boys … but I guess ButtMunch just pushed him too far."

Yelena laughed. "It was more than that … but, yeah, that about covers it." Her face and tone sobered up. "I hated recommending the Captain's Mast for CPO Granger, but I couldn't very well let it go – bad for morale to have Chiefs' beating the snot out of each other."

He closed the file, then placed it and the binder on the bed and turned to face her. "'Lena … Cliff knew exactly what he was doing before he threw the first punch. He knew what would happen and agreed that he got off lighter than he should've, but he was also very, very happy when Bartosz ended up getting 'shuffled off ship' to cover a gaping hole in the Stennis' CIC Communications division."

"Yeah, well, when I had to recommend a Captain's Mast for CPO Granger, I had a chance to suggest a change of assignment for CPO Bartosz – for the good of the service, of course – and I did it." She leaned forward just a bit, placing her hand on his knee. "Now do you see why I wasn't shocked or surprised by Mikkelssen and Philips' reactions?"

"Yeah, I see … you didn't know when we met in the library, but found out as soon as you could. Just like I probably should've."

She sat back, her jaw dropping in shock. "Why Agent Granger! You mean to tell me you don't run background checks on ladies you met in libraries who practically jump you in the stacks?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Nope. Planned on doing that, but only after getting jumped."

"Hmm… probably a good thing I haven't jumped you – yet." She leaned forward and, this time didn't stop leaning until they were kissing and he was lying back on his back on the bed.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

The ringing of a phone interrupted and two people groaned in frustration. "Remind me, again, why we're required to carry cells and have land lines?" He phrased the question in a rhetorical manner before letting her roll out from underneath and reach for the phone, he reached out and tickled her side, causing her to stop reaching.

"It should only ring if the answering machine is full … I kinda got distracted and neglected to check it for messages."

"You answer that now and we're back to being agents." He leaned on his elbow, watching appreciatively as she stretched for the handset again.

"Yeah, I know … damn it." She picked up the ringing annoyance and answered the device on the 12th ring. "Dunbar. Yeah? You sure it's a … of course. Right. You wouldn't have called me on a Sunday if it weren't. Where? Okay, Rancho California Road, just outside Temecula. I'll be there as soon as I can shake my team out of their comfy beds." She hung up the phone with a groan and rolled off the bed and without so much as a backward glance, walked out of the bedroom.

"Hey! You get most of my clothes off, answer a phone and leave?" He groused.

She appeared back in the bedroom, pulling a rather thin robe on over her bra and panty-clad body. "Sorry, Granger, work calls." Yelena sat down beside him on her bed and ran light fingers down along his ribs. "However, if you want, you can stay here and I'll hurry back as soon as I can—"

He stopped her words with a solid kiss as he pulled her back down into a horizontal embrace before answering her question. "Yelena Dunbar, if you think you are going to leave me here to go running off to investigate…. What do you have?"

"Dead squid. Looks like a hit and run according to the locals…" She squirmed and tried to sit up, so he let go of her and she pushed up on her arms to look down at him. "There are times when I hate being a NCIS Agent."

He smiled up at her. "If you weren't, we probably wouldn't've met…" Colby sat up, almost picking Yelena up off the bed with him, and gave her a rather chaste kiss on the tip of her nose. "Go get dressed, 'Lena. I'll come with you and then, if it's as simple a case as you hope it is, then we can head back to LA and—"

"Finish what we started, only at your place?"

"If that's what you want." He responded as innocently as he could and had to fight not to laugh outright when she let loose with a throaty growl and fairly bounced off the bed. "I'll take that as a 'yes'…" He wasn't fast enough to duck the robe that flew at his face, but at least it was just a piece of clothing.

Approximately ten minutes after Agent Dunbar had answered her phone and learned of another case needing NCIS's attention, Special Agent Colby Granger was following the Chevy Tahoe driven by Dunbar as she took the lead to the location of a dead sailor. Before too long he noticed another vehicle dropping in behind his own Dodge and, after carefully looking in the review mirror, Colby realized none other than NCIS Agent Rick Stringfield was tailing him. "So much for 'Lena and I being able to hide the idea that we were together last night…"

Fortunately, Agent Stringfield didn't say much when they stopped, pretty much as a group, near a line of emergency vehicles along the side of a barely 'improved' road just outside of Temecula. Colby looked back at Rick's Ford Fusion, halfway expecting to see Agent Sunshine Keynes getting out of the passenger side, but she was nowhere in evidence.

"I didn't call Sunny. She's still nursing that bum ankle of hers." Rick volunteered as he approached Colby. "Hope you got a decent amount of sleep, I know how that bed in Dunbar's guest room is – rock hard." The older agent smiled a 'wise' smile as he brushed by Colby and approached where Yelena was already talking with a sheriff's deputy wearing the patch of the San Diego County Sheriff's Office.

"NO!" Yelena's voice cut through the myriad of voices, radio chatter and even over the noise of at least two running diesel engines (one from an ambulance, the other rumbling inside a fire department's rescue truck) as Colby slowly approached her and could finally hear what set her off. "This body is not going anywhere until I say it is – all I need from the coroner on duty is a death pronouncement. Rick, Colby, take a look at our Sailor and tell me what you think." She pointed both men in what had to be the direction of the body and Colby let Rick led the way down the ditch and into the field just beyond a creosote bush.

"Damn!" Was all Rick said before turning back to Yelena. "Boss! I concur, this has got to be related."

Colby, now really curious, took a few steps to the left, then peered down at the body and was suddenly thankful he and Yelena hadn't found time to eat. The body was that of a young sailor, dressed in his duty denims, the shirt ripped open and the – he glanced up at the face and blanched a little more – kid's abdominal area was savaged.


	7. Chapter 7

See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

**Part Seven**

It took more than a little arm-twisting, not to mention Colby stepping in and identifying himself as an FBI agent not NCIS, plus a call in to Don Eppes before the local division of the San Diego County Sheriff's Office was willing to let Agents Dunbar and Stringfield take the body of young Seaman Joshua Jarnagan fully into their custody. Which is also how Dunbar learned Doctor Meese was sitting on the ID of John Bones until he could talk to her face to face.

When Colby relayed that little bit of news to Yelena, he watched as her face went from animated – she'd just about chewed up and spit out a SDSO Lieutenant over proper procedures for turning evidence like a body over to her custody – to a blank and unemotional mask. He'd helped Stringfield load the body of the slain man, boy really – kid couldn't have been much past his 18th birthday, into the back of Yelena's Tahoe and listened intently as she gave Rick his 'marching orders,' which included getting back to Camp Pendleton and setting Sunny down at a terminal (with her foot propped up on a desk if needed) and running everything and anything she could on Jarnagan, Ramirez and – this one surprised Colby – Socarro. She also warned Rick that running Socarro's files was going to bring the wrath of Counter Intelligence down on them, but she'd make a few calls while transporting the body to LA for Meese to examine to try to cut the intel-snakes off at the knees.

He was thinking how he could leave his Dodge here on the side of a county road in the middle of nowhere and not get into too much trouble over it, when Dunbar handed him a radio. "Keep it on Channel 9, and talk to me if you see me drifting or something." She then walked back to her Chevy and, after waiting just long enough to see that Colby understood what was happening, she carefully pulled back onto the road and, just as slowly and carefully, executed a three-point turn in the middle of the dirt track.

Colby climbed back into his Dodge Charger, but before he could turn over the engine to follow Yelena, Agent Stringfield tapped on the driver's side window. "Yeah, Rick?"

"Counter-Intel already cornered me and Keynes yesterday evening. They raked Sunny over the coals and left her bawling her eyes out for doing her damn job…" He seethed and Colby totally understood Rick's anger at the two agents, after his own run in with them. "I don't know the particulars but I know Socarro was, is important to Yelena in some manner. Don't let her icy façade fool you, Granger, she's hurting. Deeply. She's as good at hiding her emotions as her Training Officer was, and I worked with that man long before he became a top-notch NCIS team leader."

"I appreciate the word of advice, Rick, but don't worry – I'm going to keep a close eye on 'Lena. Her reaction, or lack of, to hearing Meese wanted to speak with her… I've never seen her like that."

Rick laughed in a gentle manner. "Get used to it if you're serious about her, Granger. Yelena Dunbar is damn good at what she does and, to be honest, she can scare the piss out of a hardened ReCon Marine with a glance, and I know that's something she didn't pick up from Gibbs. It's innate. You either have it or you don't." The NCIS agent slapped the roof of the Dodge and straightened up. "Better get going before she gets too far ahead, Granger."

Colby rolled the window up as he cranked the engine over and, just as carefully as Yelena had been, managed to turn his smaller, more agile car around in the middle of the road and took off after her. He caught up with her just about 2 miles down the road and stayed on her tail, chatting with her occasionally on the handheld radio to help keep her awake, until they got on the outskirts of Los Angeles. Which is when he took the lead and, using more surface streets than highways, got them to the Medical Examiner's office near the FBI headquarters in record time.

He tried to follow her when Meese pulled her aside and into a small, unoccupied office, but the Naval Medical Examiner smiled at him as he shut the door in his face. "Give me just a few minutes with her, Agent Granger, then you can have her back."

Those few minutes stretched into ten and Don and Lenny Goldblum joined Colby in the hall. Don and Lenny both asked very pointed questions about the body he and Yelena had just brought in, they'd both taken a peek when the techs were removing Seaman Jarnagan from the body bag, and he'd just finished explaining everything he knew when the door opened up and Yelena took a single step out of the office.

"Dunbar—" Don started to snap but she interrupted him.

"Eppes, good, you're here. I need to talk with you." She pointed the startled silent FBI Supervisory Agent into the office behind her before turning her still emotionless eyes back to Agent Goldblum. "Lenny, before you head over to assist Mouse, there's a couple of boxes full of evidence from the latest scene in the back of the Tahoe, get it will ya? Colby?" He stepped up to her, only to have her put a hand up in a stopping motion, "Would you show Lenny where your Trace Lab is? As soon as I'm done talking with your boss, I'll meet you in your office. I need to place a call back east anyway."

Before Colby could answer, she stepped back and the door, once again, was closed in his face. Leaving him and Lenny outside while Yelena closeted herself up again, this time with Don and Doc Meese.

"This can't be good news…" Lenny stated before shrugging and waving Colby aside. "I know where the trace lab is, Agent Granger, if you want to head on over to your office?"

Colby shook his head. "She was mistaken, Lenny. There's more than two boxes of evidence in her vehicle; there's four. It'll either take you two trips, or the two of us one, to get it all to Trace." He led the way back out to the garage and helped the NCIS agent secure and log in the hundreds of evidence bags, most of them contained what had to be simple trash, before he wandered back to his office.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Don sat on the edge of a convenient desk in the office and looked toward Doctor Meese for some sort of explanation, only to be on the receiving end of a 'wait for it' signal. He listened as Dunbar gave her agent a couple of orders and requested Colby help Goldblum before she stepped back into the office and secured the door behind her. "Dunbar – what is this about?"

"Mike, go ahead and tell Eppes what you told me."

He looked at Meese, who countenance was a study in compassion and sorrow. "Agent Eppes, I first need to apologize to you, if I had known – for certain – what Dunbar's reaction would've been when I gave her the confirmed identity on our John Doe … I would've told you earlier."

"So you did know?" Don questioned the odd Naval Medical Examiner.

"Oh yes, even though it took the Department of Defense and Department of Justice long enough to cough up the dental and medical records I requested." Meese was holding a rather thick file and handed it over to Don. "Our bones belong to none other than Senior Petty Officer, Combat Medical Corpsman, Roberto Efrain Navarre Socarro. Declared missing nearly three years ago, less than one week after he'd returned to the States from Deployment with the SEALs on several 'highly classified' missions in and/or around various hot spots."

Don flipped open the file and realized that it belonged to one of the names Dunbar had flagged … his eyes stopped scanning the personal information when he came across a very familiar name. "He's your cousin?" His gaze snapped back up to Dunbar's face, still waxen in its non-emotional state.

"Yes. I met with him once, just before his last deployment and subsequent disapperance, for maybe fifteen minutes and have been catching grief over that, and my subsequent actions ever since." Dunbar sat down in a straight back chair, her shoulders slumping in an attitude Don hadn't seen in the NCIS Agent since meeting her. It looked like … defeat. "Bobby, Roberto Socarro, came to see me at NCIS in Pendleton, he'd tracked me down through our Grandmother – who'd told him in a letter than his cousin was an NCIS agent at the base, he claimed to be in some sort of trouble and that he would trust me based solely on our familial connection and he needed to talk to me further, but not at HQ. I agreed to meet with him and we chose to meet at our grandmother's place later that afternoon. He never showed. On my way back to base, after waiting at my Abuela's for well over 3 hours, I came across a wreck and called it in to Orange County and California Highway Patrol and looked for survivors. There weren't any. Once the authorities showed up, they ran the plates and searched the car … it was registered to Roberto. Before I could leave the scene, I was 'detained' by a fellow NCIS Agent, Rex Mikkelssen, who interrogated me for nearly 18 hours without telling me crap." She smiled and Don suddenly felt very sorry for Mikkelssen. "Once I was released, I realized my cousin had gone missing and put together a missing person's file on him and flagged it. Which pissed Counter Intelligence off to no end."

Don leaned forward and tried to meet Dunbar's blue-gray eyes, but she wasn't cooperating. "Did you ever find out what Counter Intel wanted with your cousin?" He wasn't expecting the woman's expression, usually so sure of herself and so strong, to crumple, leaving behind despair.

"They think Roberto turned traitor and sold certain information on troop placements to either Taliban or a branch of their organization. Information that resulted in several servicemen losing their lives in Afghanistan and Iraq."

He reached out and, with a gentle yet firm hand, forced her to look him in the eyes. "What do you think?"

"I don't know." She admitted.

"What does your gut tell you?"

"I can't take my gut to court, Eppes!"

"No … but I know from experience that an investigator's gut can lead him, or her, to the truth. So, tell me, what does your gut tell you about your cousin?" How could he tell her he'd gone through the same sort of doubt, the endless questioning of his instincts when evidence against the person was totally contradictory? Don knew, now more than ever, that he never should've doubted Colby's loyalty - either to the United States, the FBI or Don personally.

"I don't want to believe someone who I'm related to, who served his country as a SEAL team member, could ever sell out his fellow service members." The sheer determination in Dunbar's voice was enough to convince him he was right in asking her what he had.

Don released her chin and sat back. "Then I guess I need to take your gut instinct and prove it correct." He looked over at Doctor Meese, who had been quite throughout this meeting, but clearly supportive of Dunbar as evidenced by his defensive stance behind her chair. "Doc, I'll need whatever assistance you can provide me as to time and cause of Socarro's death. Dunbar?" She looked at him expectantly this time, the despair and defeat he'd seen there earlier slowly dissipating. "I'd like to borrow Goldblum and Stringfield, maybe even Keynes, from you – on a as needed basis. You, however, need to steer way clear of the Socarro case … so I'm going to lend you not only Granger, but anyone else you need from my team to investigate your latest body and the Ramirez case. That all right with you?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He stood up and then held a hand out to help Dunbar get to her feet. "Now, unless I'm seriously mistaken, you've got a few phone calls to make and Doc probably wants to get to work on … Jarnagan?" Don glanced at Dunbar to make sure he had the name right and she nodded confirmation. "Meanwhile, I'll go notify both teams what's happening and talk to my boss … would you like me to talk to yours as well, Yelena?" It was, he realized, the first time he'd used her first name and it startled her, but felt 'right' for him to use it just then.

"No, Don," She returned the name favor without hesitation. "I will talk with both Assistant Director Langford and, more than likely, NCIS Director Shepherd personally and let them both know that the situation has changed and that you're taking the lead now."

"What?" That startled him but he wasn't about to let Dunbar wriggle off the leadership hook. "No, no… I'm only taking the lead in the Socarro case, NCIS and you are still responsible for the Ramirez and Jarnagan matters."

The smile that crossed her face as she opened the door and looked back over her shoulder was … apologetic. "Eppes … Don, you do realize that all three cases are probably going to end up connected, right?"

"Yes—" He let out a moan as it dawned on him just what the NCIS Agent was hinting at. "Oh great. Since I'm taking lead on the first known case, any subsequent cases – like the two you're going to continue working – are also placed, automatically, under my purview." She merely nodded and Don pleaded with her. "Yelena, I don't know crap about the Uniform Code of Military Justice."

She let out a short burst of amused laughter as she left the office. "I know, which is why I don't mind letting you 'poach' my agents. By the way, Rick knows more about the UCMJ's than Lenny – he worked as an investigator for JAG for years before NCIS wooed him over to our side of the block."

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Colby looked up from the evidence he was sorting through, read – going through and tossing out trash collected by over-eager rookie cops because the Trace Evidence Lab wasn't going to run everything, when movement near the elevators registered in his peripheral vision. He hoped it was Yelena coming up from whatever meeting she'd holed up with Don and Doc Meese in, but it wasn't. David Sinclair had just stepped off the elevator and was – for lack of a better term – moving like a cat stalking its prey as he approached their working area. His usual partner's body language was of someone who was not happy with his lot in life at that particular moment.

"Don already got you working on whatever the hell couldn't wait until morning?" David groused as he sat down at his desk and pointed at the boxes of detritus scattered around Colby's chair.

"Don? No… wait a minute… did he call you in?" David nodded. "When?" Colby looked up at the clock on his computer and realized he'd been sorting through crap for nearly 40 minutes. '_Where the hell is Yelena?_'

"Yeah, he called me about fifteen minutes ago. I was nearby hoping to take Claudia to lunch, but those plans went out the window when she rang me to tell me she had a 'fresh one' land on her table." David leaned forward and looked into the box nearest him, the one Colby was using for items that might be viable evidence in the Jarnagan case. "What is this shit, Colby? Is it somehow connected to the new cadaver on Claudia's table?"

"Potential evidence, David. Gathered from a grid search centered on the location of a homicide victim." Colby explained as calmly as he could.

"Since when does the FBI handle homicides on a weekend?" David snarled as he turned to boot up his computer.

Before Colby could answer, Don's voice rang across the department. "Sinclair! Granger! Conference Room in five!" He looked up to see Yelena coming across the floor toward the area that had been set up for her unit's use and noticed that Lenny Goldblum was fast on her heels.

He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but Lenny was making no effort to keep his voice lowered. "Dunbar, you should let me or Rick handle Langford and then let him handle Shepherd. You need to step away from this as far as you can. Mike told me there's a connection and the closer you are to this, the greater the likelihood some judge will toss—"

Lenny was stopped by a clearly audible snarl of rage from Yelena; one that made the hairs on Colby's neck stand straight up and caused David to jump up and start reaching for his sidearm before identifying the source as friendly.

Colby watched as Lenny backed away from Yelena and she entered the work area and sat down at the terminal the techs had set up with a secure audio and video feed for communication with Pendleton and other NCIS offices. He thought about trying to approach her but her blue-gray eyes met his across the room and Colby realized the last thing she needed right then was physical support. Sighing, he went back to what he'd been doing and, after sorting through another handful of stuff from the Temecula scene; he tapped David on the shoulder, gathered up a notepad and pen and headed toward the conference room.

Lenny Goldblum had, obviously, retreated to the room after Yelena had snarled at him and he and Colby were soon joined by David, then Megan Reeves rolled in – looking about as thrilled as David had been when he had come in – and then Don came in and closed the door. Colby glanced out the glass walls toward the NCIS use area, pointedly drawing Don's attention to the fact that Agent Yelena Dunbar had yet to join them. Don merely shook his head before he opened the door for a bustling Doctor Michael Meese.

Meese only stopped long enough to tell Don, "Confirmed, same as Ramirez. Only this time I will have a better chance to identify the actual blade used." Then the medical examiner was steaming toward Yelena, who looked up, removed the headset she was wearing and listened for a few seconds before nodding and replacing the headset and microphone on her head and resuming her conversations.

"I want to apologize for ruining everyone's Sunday, but as Colby can tell you, our day was ruined a lot later than Dunbar's, Stringfield's and his." Don opened a file and consulted the contents before continuing. "At approximately 7:40 this morning, a citizen in Rural Orange County, just outside of Temecula, found a DB on the side of a county road, the citizen assumed the body was a victim of a hit and run and called 9-1-1. When Orange County SO showed up, the responding officer realized the victim was wearing Military issued fatigues and wasn't a hit and run casualty after all and called in NCIS. Once Dunbar and her team, including Granger, arrived they discovered the body of 19-year-old Joshua Jarnagan." He closed the file and looked at the agents assembled around the table. "Now, according to Doc Meese, Jarnagan was murdered in the same manner as Ignacio Ramirez, that is, stabbed to death."

Megan looked up from the notes she'd been taking and asked the question that had surfaced in Colby's mind. "Okay, so we know have a potential third victim of the same killer, maybe a serial on our hands, why did you start this little confab without Agent Dunbar being present?"

Don shook his head and placed the file he'd been holding down on the table, just as Doctor Meese came back into the room. "Doc? You want to fill the team in on what you discovered late last night, early this morning?'

"You brief your people at the same speed as Dunbar…" Meese muttered before turning to face everyone. "As of zero-one-forty-four hours this day, John Bones Doe from Joshua Tree National Park has been positively identified as Senior Petty Officer, Combat Medic, Roberto Efrain Navarre Socarro. He had been listed as missing for 96 days before being identified by myself through dental records and removed from missing status."

David was nodding. "So we have an ID and a possible timeline … why isn't Dunbar in here?"

Don looked at David, then over at Colby before turning his attention back to David and answering. "Because there's a conflict of interest. Dunbar had personally flagged Socarro's missing person file – after _she'd_ reported him missing."

"What?" Colby couldn't restrain the question that burst forth, nor could he stop his eyes from looking for Yelena through the glass, only to see her approaching the conference room. She tapped on the door, which Don opened for her and nodded in response to an unasked question.

"I see my timing is right on. I'm guessing Eppes just told you I was the person to file the missing person file on Senior Petty Officer Socarro?" Everyone in the room nodded, including Colby who was also trying to make eye contact with Yelena, but she was actively avoiding meeting his gaze. "I turned Socarro's case over to Eppes as of 50 minutes ago … and I am – per NCIS Director Shepherd – to be considered a suspect in his murder." There was a general noise of outraged denial but Yelena raised her hand for silence and got it. "It is, I assume, standard FBI procedure to look at family members of a homicide victim before casting the net further out?" Colby sat, stunned, as both Megan and David nodded startled confirmation of her question. "Roberto 'Bobby' Socarro is my cousin, I cannot be involved any further in his case." The grin that crossed her face was sad and impish at the same time. "I've already caused enough trouble for NCIS in this matter. I've turned over Bobby's case to Don and the FBI, trusting him and you to discover why he was killed. The rest of the stink I raised will have to be settled by NCIS Counter-Intelligence."

She came down the table and sat down beside Colby, but still refused to meet his gaze, just as Don cleared his throat and resumed control of the meeting. "Yelena and I talked it over. Basically, we're mixing team members up. Lenny and Doc Meese, along with Agents Stringfield and Keynes will be working closely with me while Granger, Sinclair and Reeves will work with Dunbar. Dunbar is to concentrate solely on the Ramirez and Jarnagan cases, no cross-contamination of information if we can avoid it, while nearly everyone else will work all three cases with the idea that we are looking for a potential serial killer. Megan, to that end, see what you might be able to work up in the way of a basic profile sketch. Doc?" Don glanced at the medical examiner who looked up at him. "You said earlier you might be able to identify the weapon used on Jarnagan? Once you have that, make sure Megan and Charlie get that – it'll help both of them refine their data. Colby?"

He nearly jumped when Don called his name. "Yeah?"

"You're going to continue working closely with Dunbar. I mentioned Charlie and I realize he was working the puzzle from a different angle, but I would like you and Dunbar to bring him up to speed – up to and including her involvement with Socarro before his disappearance." Colby nodded his acceptance of the assignment. "Good, David – get with Lenny and Meese … and I'm assuming Doctor Gomez … go over every single stitch of clothing, every grain of sand on Jarnagan's body and see if there's even the smallest clue that will give us more information about his killer." Don waited until the three men acquiesced to his request. "Good. Dunbar, did you ask Keynes to do a records search yet?"

"Yes, she started on it before I came in here and Rick said he'd personally hand-carry the results of her data-mining to LA once her computer spat them out."

Don nodded and looked at each person individually before continuing. "All right, we got our assignments and know what we're looking at, let's get going." He stepped back as agents from two agencies started to pile out of the room, but at Don's silent signal, both Colby and Yelena remained seated as Don closed the door behind David who was the last person out. "Yelena, the job of notifying your family … do you want me to come with you and handle it?"

Yelena shook her head. "No, I'll tell my grandmother, then Roberto's mother, my aunt … I just spoke with them yesterday—"

Colby leaned forward and grasped one of her hands, not caring what Don might read into the action. "'Lena… let me handle Marie, you can tell Abuela Yeva. All right?" She just nodded and Colby helped her get to her feet. "Don, we'll be down in San Onofre if you need us."

His boss just nodded and stepped aside as Colby led the NCIS team leader from the conference room, but they didn't get very far. Dunbar stopped at the area set aside for her agency's use and dropped into a chair behind a desk and Colby, guessing at what was up, sat down beside her for a little while and listened as she made a series of phone calls before he decided he had to get a different shirt out of his locker in the gymnasium and left for a few minutes.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

"I'll be there later this evening, probably around 7:30 or so, Abuela."

Megan listened in as Yelena Dunbar spoke to her grandmother and, after doing some mental computations, realized the only way for the NCIS Agent to make to San Onofre as late as her projected time, was for her to drive a paltry rate of no more than 20 miles per hour. She turned to ask a question, only to step back a pace when she nearly twisted directly into Dunbar. "Sorry!"

Dunbar's smile was brittle as she accepted the apology. "S'all right, Agent Reeves." Her head cocked to one side as if listening to something only she could hear, as she calmly asked, "Was there something you wanted to ask or say?"

"Yes, there is." Megan motioned for the NCIS agent to follow her, and walked into a small interview room that wasn't being utilized before turning to face the visiting agent. "First off, why is it going to take you nearly five and a half hours to drive to San Onofre, where Granger tells me your grandmother's farm is?"

"Because Roberto had a father and I need to tell him his only son is dead." She watched as Yelena pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down, hard. "I don't want to face Gerry … but I can't permit anyone else to do this horrid duty." Blue-gray eyes set in a too pale face looked up at Megan. "Though I nearly took Eppes up on his offer to tell my aunt about Bobby."

Megan pulled a nearby chair out and sat down herself. "Why? You've already told her his name came up in an investigation, and she didn't bite your head off. Did she?"

"Not quite, but I could tell she did not like talking with me." Dunbar snorted. "Having Marie nearly apologize … I think she nearly choked on the words."

"I'm guessing your aunt doesn't like you for some reason?"

"Major Understatements R' Us, Reeves?"

"Snark as a defense mechanism, like I haven't seen that before." Megan slung right back without missing a beat and observed as Dunbar shook her head and started to make a noise that sounded like a cross between laughter and sobbing. Abashed, she leaned forward and placed a conciliatory hand on Dunbar's left shoulder. "Dunbar … Yelena, I'm sorry. I sometimes speak before I think—" She stopped talking as she realized Dunbar had regain control of herself more rapidly than Megan thought humanly possible.

"It's all right… I had that coming and, frankly, I'm not sure why I am having a hard time controlling my emotions around this case."

Megan smiled and, after digging around in one of her jacket's pockets, came up with and handed Dunbar a clean tissue. "Well, you did just find out your cousin is dead and you were one of the people who extracted him from his shallow grave."

Yelena's smile was, if possible, more fragile than before. "Reeves, I've known Bobby was dead for a long time. Or, rather, I hoped that was the case and that Counter-Intel was full of … well, I'm sure you can figure that out."

Megan's hand had dropped from Yelena's shoulder to the woman's knee and still rested there, so Megan gave it a light squeeze to get the agent's attention. "Are you sure that's the only reason your emotions are outta whack?" She almost laughed at the expressions that rapidly crossed Dunbar's face; one part horrified, one part total embarrassment and one part glowing admiration. Almost laughed. But Megan couldn't bring herself to actually chuckle, since she was pretty sure the same sort expression crossed her face when one of her fellow, female, agents from down the hall had asked her about Larry. "Oh dear, you do have it bad, don't you?"

Dunbar straightened up and schooled her appearance to show absolute neutrality. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Agent Reeves."

"Oh, right. Like I have no idea what it's like to find yourself in a man's world, trying to be 'one of the boys' while at the same time trying to tell your emotions to behave around certain men."

"Oh dear lord … you're the 'sometime partner' Colby warned me about." Dunbar buried her face in her hands.

"Excuse me?" Megan wasn't quite sure she'd heard what Dunbar had said correctly. "Colby _warned_ you about me?"

"Yes." Dunbar dropped her hands and looked directly at Megan. "He said he had this one partner, a female, who was just as sharp as a tungsten steel knife and a … I'm quoting him here … 'a pretty damn accurate judge of people'."

Megan smiled and felt a mild heat creeping up on her cheeks. "Colby said that? Damn, no wonder I like him." She noticed the fierce, and rather competitive look on Dunbar's face. "As a brother and a fellow agent." She aimed her best reassuring grin at the NCIS Agent. "Personally, I prefer Astro-Theoretical Physicist-Cosmologists who are a touch nerdy and totally surprising from time to time."

"Astro-what?" Dunbar shook her head. "No, don't try to explain that one." She leaned forward and with her elbows on her knees and her chin braced in an upturned palm, she quietly confided in Reeves. "Megan, right? Megan, I'll admit that I've not exactly been thinking right since Thursday morning. For five, wonderful, days I was able to forget my duties and just be me for a while and took the time to get to know a very sexy fella. I haven't felt like this about someone in a long, long time … and the fact that he's a fellow Federal Agent—"

"Makes it kinda hard to find time to just be 'Lena and CeeJay', right?" Dunbar nodded in anguished agreement and Megan reached out to grasp Yelena Dunbar by the shoulder again. "Look, I normally wouldn't suggest this, especially when it involves someone I care for like a little brother but … do yourself and Colby a favor and jump his bones. Soon. It'll do wonders for clearing your head and a clear head might just enable you to see what you're missing in this case."

"Megan!"

"What?" She countered innocently. "Are you telling me you don't want to jump him?"

"It's not that – oh god – I can't believe this…"

Megan smiled as she shook her head. "Ah, I get it. If you had jumped him the day you met him, you would be okay. But now your heart has gotten tangled up in your feelings about Colby and you're no longer sure what to do. Sound about right?"

"Reeves, don't profile me."

"I'm not … not really. But this doesn't tell me why you don't want to face your aunt or why she seems to dislike you."

Dunbar sighed. "I've never liked breaking the news of a loved one's death to family members, and it's worse since this is part of my family. As for Marie … Let's just say I remind her of someone she probably wishes she never met and she has made no attempt to hide the 'fact' that she feels I'm after whatever inheritance I can get from Abuela Yeva."

"Are you?" Megan was pretty sure Dunbar could care less about such things, but confirmation from the NCIS agent would be a good way to know if she had properly assessed Yelena's personality.

"No. I didn't even seek out my biological father's family, his mother sought me out. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a Dunbar, not a Navarre."

"That's what I thought you'd say. Colby could do a lot worse than get 'involved' with you, Agent Dunbar. Just do me one favor?" She waited until the other woman looked at her and nodded. "Don't hurt him. If you just want a physical relationship with him, and I am not blind to his attractors in that area, then tell him that from the start. But if you're falling for him… don't hide it. Colby's been through enough bullshit in his life the last few years that he doesn't need it from a lover, okay?"

Dunbar stared at her, then started to chuckle, which turned into full-blown laughter that puzzled Megan until she heard what the NCIS Agent was muttering. "Priceless … like brother … advice … older sister … go screw him, but don't screw him over."

Hearing it put that way, Megan had to admit, it was funny and she started to chuckle along with Dunbar. Before either woman could regain control of their mirth, the subject of their talk knocked on the door and stepped into the room, which caused them both to start laughing hard again.

"You two cackling hens want to let me in on the joke?" Granger asked, his expression puzzled.

Megan just shook her head as she stood up and brushed by him but stopped before she actually left the room to address Dunbar one last time. "Yelena? Don't forget what I told you, okay?"

"Not a chance, Megan. Thanks for the insight."

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Don made a trip down to the communications hub of the FBI and, once there, had to convince the supervisor on duty to tell him where ADA Wright was spending his Sunday. "Come on, Krista, you know me, you know I wouldn't ask unless it was really necessary. I mean, hello, bug the boss on the weekend when I'm not even really supposed to be here myself? I am not the type to commit career suicide over something trivial."

"Eppes, just asking for Wright's location is a potential path to occupational destruction." The 40-something year old woman responded, even as she dragged him out of her office space, into the transmission center of the FBI. "I really don't have time to argue this with you … I've got a task force out with DEA in South LA about to take down a illicit importer." She slid past a couple of her techs and dispatchers to read a status board, scribbled something down on a handy notepad, then wove her way back to Don and slapped the bright pink post-it-note on his chest as she brushed by him. "There. Do what you will, but unless you've got something huge—"

Don smiled, caught her hand, and dropped a kiss on the back before releasing her. "Krista, trust me, it's huge and unless Wright puts the white-hot irons to tender points of my body, he'll never learn it was you who told me where he was." He didn't even look at what she had written down before leaving dispatch – just as the Task Force Leader's voice broke over the main tac-channel.

"_3810, Control, we're go-go-go—_" The door shut behind Don before his mind could be distracted by the excitement in the man's voice.

He was just outside the main elevator bank, planning on heading either down to the morgue (via a lower subterranean tunnel) or back up to the floor that housed his unit when he looked at what Krista had scrawled down. She had included not only the name of Wright's church, but his tee time at his favorite golf course and ADA's not-to-be-called-unless-Armageddon-was-imminent cell phone number.

Glancing at his watch, Don decided that there was no chance Doc Meese would even come close to finishing the autopsy on Jarnagan before he could drive out to … "Oh, great, National. And with my luck, he'll be approaching the 14th tee when I catch up to him." He punched the button for the elevator, then decided he could walk down the stairwell to the garage level faster and, shoving the information on Wright's whereabouts in his jeans' pocket, decided to call Megan to advise her of his plans after he was on the road.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

David Sinclair made his way through the tunnel that ran under Wilshire and connected the Federal Building to the county morgue, intent on checking in with Claudia before seeing what – if anything – Lenny Goldblum and Doc Meese had some up with on the latest victim. He had just left Granger outside the CST Labs, having dropped of the two boxes of potential evidence, and was still a little disappointed that Granger had opted to head back up to their unit's floor instead of coming with him. That uncharacteristic lack of curiosity in his usual partner David blamed on NCIS Agent Dunbar.

Colby was usually the one agent who couldn't wait to talk to a coroner or the lab geeks so as to discover the how's and the why's and start splicing clues together in a case. _'Not now…'_ David mused to himself, trying to quash the bitter tone his mind-voice insisted on using.

He wasn't sure what Don had been thinking when he had assigned Colby to liaise with NCIS, read Dunbar, after they'd extracted John Bones Doe from his earthly tomb – especially when it had become blindingly obvious that the two agents were, or had been "involved" with each other. But that was exactly what Eppes had done and now David was on his way to the morgue, alone, while Colby went back to act as a go-between with Dunbar. However, not having Colby tagging along had its advantages too.

Stopping outside the autopsy bay he knew the NCIS medical examiner had been using, David tried to figure out what his friend saw in the acerbic NCIS Agent – and failed. He was still standing there, lost in thought, when Doctor Claudia Gomez found him.

"David?" Her soft voice cut through the fog in his head and he turned to face her, knowing the grin on his face probably looked as goofy as it felt. "David, I'm sorry about this, but lunch is out. I'm helping the Navy Doc with their latest body—"

He placed a gentle forefinger on Claudia's lips to stop her words and then, after checking to make sure no one was around and they were alone in the hallway, David replaced the finger with his lips for a quick moment. "I know … I got called in on the same case not too long after I'd dropped you off this morning."

She leaned against his chest and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, her face tucked in just below his clavicle. "I'm not sure how long … the body's pretty messed up." He felt her slender body shudder against his. "David, he was just a kid… not really old enough to shave. He should be at the beach or a club, trying his moves on a girl, not laying on a slab." David felt her shudder again. "Damn it, I will never get used to working on kids under twenty-one."

"Hey, Honeybee, I hope you never get used to that, you just wouldn't be you if you got all jaded and complacent." David knew better than to wish – aloud anyway – that Claudia would never have to work on a juvenile autopsy, after all, this was LA and LA had gangs and young kids dying violently seemed to be almost an accepted norm. Almost. "So … you about to go in there?" He indicated the bay behind her, where he could see Doc Meese roaming about the table.

"Yeah, I thought I'd help Mike with the prelim exam and then just assist on the actual autopsy, just to see what we might come up with for trace. How about you?"

"I'll help Lenny out. You know, going through the clothes and other items the victim had on him – the usual." Her answering nod was all he needed. "So, after you my dear." He pushed open the door and held it for Claudia, as he took in a deep, if somewhat overly dramatic, breath before crossing the threshold himself. It was cornball tactics, but they made her smile and that's what David had been after. A little laugh or a smile on her lovely face before diving into the horrors that could be, and often were, part and parcel of an autopsy.

Thing is, the deep breathing wasn't just for humor … no matter how long he'd been dealing with being around bodies at various stages of decomposition, David couldn't get used to the "death stench." The profound intake of air was his way of coping with bad odors – by firmly placing the memory of fresh, untainted, atmosphere in his nose.


	8. Chapter 8

See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

_**This is where the story goes "M" for Mature **. . . There is also some Spanish in here, but I didn't have time to get it proof-read by a Mexico-Spanish speaker/reader before posting. All mistakes in Spanish are mine. If you need a translation, google-search 'Reverso Translator' or use Bablefish over at AltaVista. --Suisan_

**Part Eight**

Colby had followed her directions to the letter, once they were in Lake Elsinore proper, and it was only as they were pulling into the driveway that lead to her uncle's house that Yelena started to feel the physical effects of dread. She swallowed a few times, wishing she had something more than her own spit to try to combat the sudden dryness in her mouth, as she attempted to ease the tension in her throat. Her distress must have been more obvious than she thought, for Colby's hand dropped from the steering wheel to cover hers where it lay on the console between them.

"You just have to ask, 'Lena, and I'll break the news to Socarro's father." The soft compassion in his green-gray hazel eyes nearly undid her hard won resolve, but in the end, she shook her head and, as soon as he brought her Tahoe to a stop, she popped open the passenger door and escaped the cab.

She'd just firmly shut the door when her uncle's voice sounded behind her. "Yelena! Madre Dios, I was just thinking about you and you show up—" His words faded as she turned to face him. "Oh mierda … usted está aquí con las noticias de Bobby."

Yelena walked up to her uncle and, placing hands on his shoulders, nodded in confirmation. "Sí. Como usted teme, la historia que tengo no está bien, Tío Gerry." She waved motioned to Colby and he came around to stand beside her. "Uncle, this is Agent Granger from the FBI. Our two agencies are working the case that involves Bobby." She turned to reverse the introductions. "Colby, this is my uncle, Roberto's father, Gerardo Sorely Socarro."

The two men shook hands even as Colby looked at her but asked Gerardo, "Sorely?"

Gerardo let out a chuckle. "My mother's father's name. I was named for him, Sorley Tighe, as Irish as the day is long. A point that became a sore spot with my wife for some reason long after we'd wed." He waved both of them to follow as he lead the way into the house and into the kitchen. "Can I get either of you something to drink? I've tea, or coffee or water … and cerveza, unless it's too early?"

"No thanks, sir."

Colby declined the refreshments, but Yelena wasn't about to face her uncle without something to occupy her hands. "Sit down, Tío, I'll just help myself to a glass of water and then we'll talk." However, Gerardo wasn't ready to just sit down, he pulled a bottle of Tecaté from the fridge, popped the cap and, after taking a healthy slug from the cold bottle, he settled into a chair at the kitchen table.

Yelena grabbed a glass from the cabinet near the sink that Gerardo had indicated and, after getting a cup full of water, sat down at the table and tried not to act like Colby's presence behind her, his hands resting on the back of the chair, was affecting her. She took a free hand and reached across the surface of the hardwood table and gentle grasped her uncle's hand to more his attention from the bottle to her. "Tio … Uncle … Bobby's been found."

Gerardo turned a little gray, but recovered well enough that Yelena wondered if she'd seen things. "He's dead, isn't he, 'Elena? If he'd been busted by that prick, Mikkelssen, that man wouldn't think to notify me … or he'd do it, but gloat over the idea that a former Naval Commander would raise a traitor."

"Mikkelssen's really made it a career to piss off folks around you, huh, Dunbar?" Colby asked, causing Gerardo to look up at him.

"You've met the _z__urramato_, Agent Granger?"

Colby snorted before answering. "Yeah, earlier today. Nearly shot his current partner."

"You should'a shot Mikkelssen and done the entire Federal Intelligence service community a great favor."

"Tio…" Yelena cautioned but her uncle waved off her concern.

"No, 'Elena. It's true and you know it. I'm pretty sure Agent Granger picked up on Mikkelssen's incompetence when they met, or he wouldn't have admitted to nearly shooting the man's partner." Gerardo looked beyond Yelena and upward to meet Colby's eyes. "I used to be Naval Intelligence back when it was still a separate unit, Agent. People like Mikkelssen never would've made it past their 3-month probationary period under the old rules and I'm pretty sure Agents like my Niece here would've kicked his but out of the service before he could become entrenched, but – the services aren't what they once were. You know what I mean?"

"Yes, sir, I do. I'm former active duty myself."

Gerardo nodded. "Thought so, you carry yourself like Army trained and tried." His gaze dropped back down to Yelena. "¿Sobrina, cuándo liberarán ellos el cuerpo de Bobby para el entierro?" (Niece, when will they release Bobby's body for burial?)

She didn't immediately respond, she'd had to switch mental gears from English to Spanish and then realized she didn't have the information. "I'm not sure, Gerry. You should know … there's not much left. My Medical Examiner estimated Bobby's time of death to a period right around when he disappeared."

"¿Huesos? ¿Es esto todo lo que los restos de mi hijo?" (Bones? Is that all that is left of my son?)

"Sí, Tio. Lo siento mucho—" (Yes, Uncle. I am so sorry—)

"No, it's not your fault, 'Elena. I've known for a while that, unless I was wrong about my boy, that the only way I'd get Bobby back was in a pine box. Or a small urn." Gerardo didn't even twitch when the front door to the house opened up, without someone knocking, and Yelena found herself looking up at a lovely Hispanic woman around 15 years younger than her Uncle. "Anita… This is my niece, my brother-in-law's child, NCIS Agent Yelena Aritza-Navarre Dunbar and FBI Agent Granger. They're here about Roberto, Bobby. Yelena, esto es Anita Merlos Hernandez, mi amante."

"Gerry!" Anita blushed as she lightly smacked Gerardo for introducing her as his 'lover' … before she gave a sad smile to Yelena. "I'm guessing the news is not good, Agents, or there wouldn't be two of you here."

Yelena nodded in agreement. "I'll let Gerry tell you the details, Anita ... but, no, Bobby's gone." She stood up, taking the water glass to the sink before turning to leave. "Gerry, I am more sorry than words can express that I couldn't do more in Bobby's case than I did—"

Gerardo stood up so suddenly that his chair dropped to the floor behind him as he hurried to embrace her. "Shush, 'Elena. You did all you could, and more. I'll never doubt that." He gave her a light kiss on the temple before releasing her.

"Thank you, Gerry." She fought to control her tone as she nodded to Colby to head for the door even as she pulled a business card from the back pocket of her Dockers and handed it to her uncle. "Call me by Tuesday, I should know when we can release Bobby for burial by then."

"Gracias, 'Elena. I'll call Marie tomorrow – or much later tonight?" He looked at her for guidance and she nodded that second option would be best. "Later tonight I'll call Marie's cell phone and see if we can be civil to each other long enough to make arrangements and bury our son." He walked with Yelena to the door and waved as Colby pulled the Tahoe out of the drive.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

As luck would have it, ADA Phillip Wright was finishing up on the 18th green when Don caught up to him at National. He watched as Wright lined up the putt, gently tapped the ball, which rolled straight for 5 feet before breaking slightly to the left and dropping into the cup. The other three members of Wright's group let out a moan of defeat as the Assistant Director smiled broadly and tipped his hat out to them – which they promptly dropped twenty dollar bills into. Clearly Wright had the best game in the group and everyone was paying up so he could buy the rounds at the 19th Hole, AKA the bar at the clubhouse. Don just hoped that 'win' would put his boss in a good enough mood so he wouldn't just snap Don's head off for daring to interrupt his Sunday activities.

Wright replaced his cap on his head, turned and beckoned Don to meet him at the far edge of the putting green, as far away from his golfing companions as was possible and conveniently close to his golf cart. "Agent Eppes," He began in a very civil tone, "I know there is no way Control gave you my location without there being a very compelling reason for them to do so. Correct?"

"That would be correct, Sir."

Phillip Wright let out a sigh as he sat down in the cart and began removing his golfing shoes, replacing them with a pair of worn leather loafers. "All right, since you managed to make it out here without dropping from heat stroke … tell me what you got."

Don explained to the ADA how tangled the case they were working with NCIS had become and how, now that a third body had been found and the connection to the first body and the previous lead investigator had come to light, the FBI – in the body of one Don Eppes – was now in charge of the cases that looked like the work of a serial killer.

"Granger is sitting on Dunbar?" Don nodded. "Reeves is working up a basic profile based on what you have so far in all three cases? And you've shuffled the teams around to move Special Agent Dunbar as far away from the case pertaining to her cousin as possible?" Wright stood up and stuffed his cleated golf shoes inside the large pocket of his golfbag. "Well, it sounds to me like you're doing exactly what I would've told you to, so good job and now go finish ruining the rest of your combined teams' weekends and let me finish mine in peace."

Don smiled in relief. "Yes, sir … and congratulations on the game."

"Just make sure you have a full explanation memo on my desk and time-stamped in the email system before you go home this evening, SSA Eppes."

Don moved out of the Assistant Director of Agents' way as he started the electric motor on the golf cart, popped the break and drove up to the clubhouse.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

The trip from Lake Elsinore to San Onofre took a little longer than Colby had suspected it would, but just before he would've turned down the road that would lead to Aritza Farms, Yelena had instructed him to pull into the parking lot of a 24-hour grocery store. That had lead to the discovery that Special Agent Dunbar's Tahoe was fully customized with a small arsenal locker under the floor of the cargo area and that she was in the habit of keeping a lightweight but sturdy ice chest back there as well. A fifteen minute whirlwind of a buying spree through the fresh and frozen foods as well as a trip through the non-perishables aisle, plus the purchase of a couple of bags of ice, and they were back on the road. When he thought to ask her why the sudden need to grocery shop, Yelena's response had surprised him.

"I feel the need to cook. A real meal. Not something that I can just slap together and call it food; something I can take my time on, that will require concentration so I can stop thinking about the case I'm not supposed to be working on."

Now he sat in the kitchen of Yeva Aritza-Navarre's hacienda, sitting next to Abuela Yeva as they both sipped iced tea and listened to the conversation going on in the family room. The rather loud, and getting louder, conversation.

"That's the Castilian in both of them, passions run hot and strong in the Spanish … and while I came to terms with Bobby's possible death a couple of years ago—" Yeva didn't have to finish her sentence because Colby understood the implication. Marie Navarre-Socarro had never, and probably wouldn't if the truth be told, accepted that her son would never be found alive.

The silence that settled over the two occupants of the kitchen like a comfortable blanket was suddenly shattered by the rather sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh and a gasp of shock. Then a soft alto voice, roughened with pent up anger, echoed through the stillness.

"How dare you … I never would've … you are a sick and twisted person, Marie. If you're smart, you'll stay there until I'm gone." The sound of heels on flagstone approached the kitchen and Yelena pushed through the door, her right hand cradled in her left as she approached her grandmother. "Abuela … I'm sorry. I tried, I really did, but there is just no reasoning with her. I'll be back out when you or Tío Gerry tell me when the wake and funeral is for Bobby, but I will no longer interact with Marie."

"You slapped her?" Yeva asked and Colby wasn't surprised when Yelena nodded. "It was a long time coming, Yelena, I'm surprised you didn't do that earlier. Bobby would understand, so will Gerry when I speak to him of it." Yeva pulled her granddaughter into a hug. "You will always be welcome here, Yelena. Never doubt that you are part of mi familia, even if my daughter thinks you are not." Yeva let go of Yelena and then turned to Colby and held a hand out to him, which he grasped and held onto as long as the older woman did. "You are also welcome out here, Agent Granger. I would be honored to have you accompany Yelena when she returns for the funerary rites."

"If she wants me to escort her, I'll gladly come along with Yelena."

"I'll want you along, Colby, if only to make sure I am as civil as possible to my aunt." Yelena's expression was a little hard to decipher, it seemed to be one part brutal honesty and one part joking … but having heard what had taken place in the family room, he wasn't so sure Dunbar was, actually, joking.

"Then it is settled. You both come and I'll make sure I have a room cleared out for you, two rooms if need be—" With that sly remark, Yelena hurriedly shushed her grandmother, grabbed Colby's arm and started dragging him out to her Tahoe all the while speaking rapidly in a language he'd not heard before – outside a movie or two. He was still trying to decide if he'd heard her right when Yelena pulled through the farm's gate and onto the road that would lead into San Onofre proper and then the North Gate of Camp Pendleton.

"Yelena … did you just speak with Abuela Yeva in … Russian?"

"Yes."

"How many languages do you speak?" He was a little awed, outside of his Spanish - which was fluent but not as effortless as he'd like it to be - Colby spoke primarily English with a smattering of words and phrases from a few other languages, like Afghani, Farsi and a little Croatian.

"Fluently? Only three; English, Spanish and Russian, I also know a little Croatian, Serbian and Romany. Why?"

He shook his head as they pulled off the farm road to the main drag through town. "Just curious … where did you learn the Russian? The Department of Defense Language School in Monterrey?"

Her laugh, one of the first genuine amused tones he'd heard from her since they'd woke up that morning – outside of whatever she and Megan had been cackling over in the conference room, filled the Chevy as she shook her head. "Oh, Lord no … Don't get me wrong, Monterrey's a damn good language school, but I picked my Russian up from my uncle, who used me to practice _his_ language skills on. That is, when he decided to speak to me at all on our hunting trips."

"What does that mean?" Colby was a little startled … an uncle refusing to speak to his niece on hunting trips? Just what sort of family had Yelena been raised in?

"Not what you're thinking, clearly." She pulled into the gate area of Camp Pendleton's North Gate and slowed down to a crawl before being waved onto the post by the Marine Guard. "We mostly spoke with hand signals, CeeJay. Silent hunting."

He snorted. "Sounds more like sniper training—" Colby stopped as his mind went skittering back to her behavior on the gun range the night before. "Damn it, your uncle is a Marine Scout-Sniper, isn't he?"

"He was … he's no longer an Active Duty Marine."

"Wonder if he ever worked with Agent Edgerton…" Colby mused, he thought quietly until Yelena answered.

"Ian Edgerton? Yeah, Edge was one of my Uncle's trainees and, later, part of his sniper team."

"Is there anyone you don't know in the FBI?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'know' – I'm getting to _know_ you, but I don't know and wouldn't want to know Edge in the same way, even though he's pretty much a part of the extended family back east."

Colby didn't respond to that for a long time, long enough that Yelena was pulling into her driveway at her assigned housing quarters before he asked anything else. "So, I couldn't help but notice you bought a lot of groceries …"

She turned off the engine and exited the driver's seat laughing again and didn't answer him until they had carried all the groceries into the house and she'd started putting things away. "I tend to cook when I need to clear my head and I really, really need to clear my head right now so I hope you're hungry, CeeJay." That was when he was also informed that he had about an hour to kill and stay out of her way – so he opted to check out the neighborhood again with a brisk walk followed by a shower.

- - - - - - - - -

Once the chicken breasts, veggies and rolls were in the oven, Yelena took about 20 minutes to scrub the stress of the day away from her body and dressed in something a little more … _relaxed_ than her usual chinos, golf shirt and vest. She chose a loose gauze-like cotton shirt over a skirt of the same material in a darker hue … so that she was top to bottom dressed in a bright 'new leaf' green over a pine-like green. It was comfortable and with this type of outfit she could get away with the barefoot look – so she did. Colby had come in from his explorations while she was getting dressed and she now heard the shower going in the guest-bath.

Hurrying back down the stairs she cleared the dining room table of most of the piles of paperwork and other junk that had built up and set two place settings before turning her attention back to the meal. The rolls were just done, perfectly browned, and she paused long enough to brush them with a butter and honey glaze before checking on the rest of the meal. The mixed vegetables were just soft to the fork and the chicken, encrusted in ground nuts, needed another five minutes, so she closed the oven up again before turning around to see Colby, hair still damp from his shower but dressed in a loose-fitting pair of cargo pants (with zippers and pockets everywhere) and a loose white tee-shirt standing behind her.

"Something smells good."

"I just hope it turns out okay. I'm kinda experimenting on you." She took the few steps required to approach him and found herself in his embrace before she'd had a chance to think about it – twice. "How was your walk?"

"Fine. Your neighbor, General Gooba? He seemed real keen to know just how long the FBI was going to be, and I quote him here, 'involved with NCIS'?" His smile was brilliant and teasing when she looked up at him. "So I gave him a wishy-washy answer and said it was pretty much up to you."

"Damn, he's probably over there at his place right know telling his wife that and she's going to spread it around the post that I'm 'entertaining gentlemen callers' at my place." She shook her head as he started to laugh … "Colby, this isn't that funny … a post like Pendleton is worse than a small town in mid-America. The Biddies will have it all over the base by Tuesday morning and I'll be called on the carpet for 'behavior unbecoming'."

His smile disappeared in flash. "I hadn't thought of that … maybe I should look into getting a room in Oceanside tonight? Kept the biddies at bay?"

"No. Screw them. I've lived with worse rumors going around about me; I'll weather this as well – should it even happen. Mrs. Gooba isn't as bad as some officer's wives … she doesn't wear her husband's rank and she seems to genuinely like associating with us lowly NCOs." Yelena twisted out of his embrace, not that she wanted to - it was nice just to be held like you were precious, and opened up the oven even as she shoo'ed him back out to the dining area. It didn't take her long to arrange everything on plates and carry them out, a little juggling like she used to do in the Grottoes Café when she was a teenager and she was able to snag the wicker basket she'd set up with the rolls and butter.

The sight that greeted her wasn't exactly as she'd planned … but the light from four votive candles set in the middle of the two place settings on the table did add a nice touch and one that she found herself wishing she'd thought of. Colby came over to her and carefully relieved her of the bread basket, freeing her to place the plates down which is when he came over to her chair and held it for her. She smiled her thanks up at him as he went around to his chair, none of her previous male companions, except one who really didn't eat, had been as chivalrous – but then again, Colby had been raised within the Society, which could very well explain his anachronistic behavior.

She waited until he'd taken a bite of the chicken and veggies before inquiring, "Well, does it meet with your approval?"

"Yeah … you used pistachios in the crust?"

"Seemed like a good idea since I knew you're pistachio crazy."

"I don't think I've ever heard of someone using ground nuts as a breading or crust. This is damn good."

"I'm glad you like it." She ate a little bit more before admitting to him … "I started a fresh pot of coffee and tossed a plate of Aritza Farms sticky buns in the oven to warm up."

His expression was almost comical – and Yelena had to force herself not to read too much into it. He looked ecstatic and almost orgasmic … which made it very difficult for her not to just follow Megan Reeves' advice right then and there.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Rick Stringfield pulled into the parking garage at the Federal Building in Los Angeles and finally relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. The six and a half hours he'd spent with Sunshine Keynes at NCIS HQ at Camp Pendleton, after he'd closed up the crime scene outside of Temecula, had been – in his opinion – a huge waste of time and assets but the file was surprisingly thick on Seaman Joshua Jarnagan. He grabbed up the accordion file from the passenger seat and unfolded himself from the driver's seat of his Ford Fusion and tried not to wince as his long legs protested having been cramped under the too low steering wheel all the way from Camp Pendleton. He closed the door on the car and preceded over to the elevator, only to realize at the last moment that it was a secure 'agents only' lift and he had to walk around to the front of the office building and go in through the lobby – like any other civilian.

Seven minutes later he was finally leaving the elevator on the fourteenth floor where Eppes' team worked out and where, temporarily at least, Director Shepherd had arranged for NCIS to have a little space. It was fast approaching eighteen hundred hours, six PM in civvies-speak, and Rick felt like the investigation into Jarnagan wasn't progressing as fast as it normally would've have. That could be because he'd been informed by Shepherd that Yelena was off the Socarro case and was, in fact, a suspect until proven otherwise and then, when he talked with Agent Reeves – Agent Eppes was in a meeting somewhere when he'd called – he'd learned that Socarro was Dunbar's cousin and she was doing the notification duty with Agent Granger.

He'd had to rely on the NCIS Agents in Diego to do the rough task of interviewing Jarnagan's friends and unit mates there at Miramar and after what, for them, had been a marathon session, Rick was now hand-carrying the reports and file to give a copy to Eppes. In fact, Eppes and Reeves, along with Sinclair and Lenny and even Doc Meese were waiting for him when he arrived, none of them looked happy and all of them, especially Meese, looked rather sickened. He handed Eppes the files in his hand and asked, "Why do you all look so damn ill?"

"I figured out what killed Seaman Jarnagan, Rick." Meese spoke up, and then reached behind his back for something lying on the desk behind him and brought it to where Rick could see it. "Marine issued Combat Knife, the K-Bar."

He flinched, then realized why the FBI team looked so … haggard. "What? Just because we were told to suspect Dunbar in the murder of Socarro doesn't mean she's a suspect in either Ramirez's or Jarnagan's deaths. Unless you really think your own man would cover for her."

Reeves practically leapt up from where she'd been sitting. "What do you mean, Stringfield?"

He shrugged, and then realized that giving away his boss' confidence might be the only way to get this investigation back on track and the focus off Dunbar. "Look, I can't prove it, you didn't hear it from me and even though they arrived in different cars to the scene . . . Granger and Dunbar probably spent the night together." He shook his head. "No, scratch that. I _know_ they did. Mikkelssen was a right pain in the ass about the whole thing; claimed Granger nearly blew his partner away just for knocking on Dunbar's door before 0700hrs this morning. Just before I called her to let her know we had another dead squid on our hands." He spotted the knowing looks on Sinclair's and Reeves' faces and shook his head again. "I doubt they spent the night like that, Agents. Of course, they could've and I've somehow lost my touch of knowing but, seriously, I doubt it. The sexual tension between them at the scene outside of Temecula was just too damn … unresolved."

"I agree." Reeves piped up. "Look, not that it's any of our business but from what I've observed of both Dunbar and Colby … they just haven't taken that step yet."

Eppes was shaking his head as he read over the reports and listened in on the conversation before slapping the files shut at the end of Reeves' comments. "I do not need to even be thinking those kind of thoughts right now, Megan. We need to concentrate on the cases at hand. ADA Wright pretty much gave me _carte blanch_ to find the sonuvabiatch who's killing these folks and, except for the latest, dumping them on Federal park lands." The FBI team leader turned his attention back to Rick. "The agents in Diego who talked with Jarnagan's buddies … good investigators?"

"Pretty good … they're not Dunbar or I but, then again, not everyone can be trained by excellent teachers. Why?"

"The reports from Agent Henley read like a 'saw suspect, shot same' statement with little or no personal observations thrown in for color." He handed the files to both Reeves and Sinclair who studied them, nodded in agreement and passed them along to Lenny and Meese. "But Agent Wahlderman… I can believe he actually talked and listened to the folks he reportedly spoke with about Jarnagan."

"I had noticed that. Henley's a newbie, only on the job for six months – came out of the same class as Keynes – but he's apparently slower at tossing the book on report writing out in the trash. Wahlderman's a ten year veteran, worked pretty much his entire career to date out of the Diego office and is the direct opposite of Henley – sometimes his reports are too damn detailed." Rick snorted as he remembered a case from six years back. "Those details nearly turned around and bit Wahlderman in the ass on the stand. I would've thought he'd learned a lesson that day, but I guess not." He looked at Eppes and hooked a thumb over his shoulder to point to the NCIS area. "You want me to set up a video conference with Wahlderman and Henley so you can personally chew on Henley and get the personal observations you need?"

"No … wait. Yeah. Go ahead and set it up." Eppes corrected himself and turned to the assembled agents. "Megan, I want you in on the conference Rick's setting up. Lenny, you too. Maybe between the four of us we'll be able to scare some sense into a fellow federal agent."

Rick tried to ignore Lenny's response, but knew his fellow agent was only being helpful, and one hundred percent honest in his statement. "Oh, just wait until Dunbar hears of this and reads the original reports – Agent Henley will be scared. If not by us, then by Dunbar when she gets a hold of him."

He stifled his laughter when the FBI agents just looked at Lenny with disbelief. Now was not the time to tell them that Agent Yelena Dunbar was more than just a team leader at NCIS West. Their number one suspect in the death of Roberto Socarro was, at least until she was officially cleared, also the Assistant Director in Charge of Training for not only NCIS Camp Pendleton, but for all of NCIS-West Command. A job she bitched about on a regular basis, especially when agents under her purview couldn't seem to keep their recertification dates straight in their heads and had to be reminded, on a regular basis, when to requalify in their various skills.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Even though he hadn't wanted to, Colby had climbed into the guest bed at Dunbar's place – alone. It had been after ten P.M. before the kitchen had been cleaned up after Yelena's dinner, and darn near midnight when she'd yawned in the middle of a kiss he'd delivered while they cuddled on her oversized corner chaise. Knowing she was probably both emotionally and physically worn out, he'd sent her on to her own bed then closed up her place and made his way to the guest room. As he drifted off to sleep, he applauded his actions on one hand for being the epitome of chivalry and cursed at himself on the other for not, at least, crawling into bed with Yelena; even if it was only to hold her close and nothing else.

He awoke a while later, from a rather erotic dream involving Yelena, to the sensation of a feather-light touch tracing the edges of the burn scars on his back and he flipped over to find her kneeling on the bed next to him, her hand still outstretched toward him from where she'd been touching him. "'Lena? What's wrong?" He sat up, assuming she wouldn't have woke him without there being a reason for it.

"Nothing's wrong." She looked a little timid in the pale moonlight that was spilling through the window, her long chestnut hair spilling over her shoulders. Covering without concealing the silvery-colored camisole hanging from her shoulders and barely hiding her breasts from his gaze. Her shoulders shrugged and the deep v of the camisole's neckline dipped down further. "I didn't mean to wake you, I just … I was watching you and noticed the scars. The fire must have been pretty bad, but it looks like you kept your own skin."

He sat up a little straighter; pulling his legs up so he could sit crossed-legged and nodded. "The staff at Brooks Army-Medical was good. I was lucky." He was still self-conscious about the way his back looked, not enough to not ever go shirtless but enough that he had a fabricated story ready for ladies who asked about them; ladies who weren't military or paramilitary.

"I'm guessing … IED in Afghanistan?"

With Yelena, he felt could admit the truth. "Yeah, I was pretty well-toasted and ended up evac'ed straight away from the field hospital to Germany, then to Texas."

She leaned in a lot closer, gesturing toward his back. "May I?"

Colby nodded, not too sure what to expect, but a light came on – a small reading lamp attached to the headboard – and she moved around on the bed so she could see the scars. He sought to reassure her. "They're not as bad as they could be—" His breath left him when he felt her exhalation ghost over the surface of the scar tissue, then the warm, smooth wetness of her lips caressed the same spot.

"They're beautiful. I couldn't really see them in the light before, but now—" Her tongue followed her lips and Colby had to fight very hard not to wrestle her back around to sit on his lap. More feather light touches, ghosting air and soft lips and warm, wet licks followed the edges of the one burn that led up from the middle of his back to just below his neck. The feel of her lips creeping up his body, only to stop when she reached the base of his neck was driving him, pushing him further and further toward a point of no return.

"I'm still dreaming… I'm still asleep." He closed his eyes and murmured, willing himself to stay asleep if it was a dream. The bed shifted under his body and Colby's eyes snapped open when Yelena settled on his lap, her legs – her long, well-shaped and strong legs – wrapped around his waist, even as her arms folded around his neck and pulled him close. Her kiss was sweet, light and sensual until their tongues touched and twined, then the kiss deepened, becoming demanding and passionate and his hands came up of their own accord to stroke her silk-covered back and backside. He groaned when he realized she wasn't wearing anything below the camisole and she leaned back, breaking the kiss, mirth and excitement coloring her eyes.

"Does that feel like a dream, CeeJay?"

"No—" He dipped his head down and while one hand held her back, the other came around and lowered the neckline on the silk camisole she was wearing until he could taste the rise of her breast and then pull the nipple into his mouth. Her answering purr of pleasure told him she was more than ready to take their relationship to the next level, but he had to be certain. Lifting his head back up to look her in the eyes Colby placed his hands on her hips – so precariously balanced next to and above his own – and asked the one question that could make or break him at that moment. "Yelena, are you sure?"

Her hands came up to grasp his jaw line, even as she wriggled her body closer to his and her mons brushed the tip of his growing phallus. "More sure than I've ever been." She dropped her face close to his and their lips met once again in a soul searing kiss that sent shivers through the entire length of his body. Her legs unwrapped from around his waist for a minute; "Straighten your legs out, dear" was whispered into his ear when he started to protest the change in positions. He did as she asked and was rewarded with better access to Yelena's core when she straddled his hips and leaned even deeper against his body.

He wasn't sure how long it lasted, but the pleasurable sensations of learning every nook and cranny of Yelena Dunbar's body, and her learning his, didn't stop until they both cried out in ecstasy and collapsed into each other's embrace in the early morning hours of the gray dawn.

- - - - -

Yelena stretched as she rolled closer to Colby's body. She'd hoped it would be good once it happened, she hadn't expected it to be _that_ good, but she was pleased. Hell, she was ecstatic and the way he kept kissing and nipping her shoulder as she lay next to him … None of her previous lovers, a grand total of two, had ever instigated post-coital cherishment or cuddles without her prompting, but here Colby was doing just that. His hands, his lovely hands, held her close and rubbed gently up and down her arm and back, stopping occasionally to smooth over her hip to her glutes and press her closer to his body.

It was delicious. There was nothing between the two of them but a little bit of air and sweat and he didn't seem to mind that she had 'trapped' him by tossing one limb over his thighs and shamelessly kept rubbing herself against him like a cat stropping a leg. "I should probably arrest myself." She admitted aloud once her heart stopped racing and her breathing had evened out.

"Why?" He asked, dropping a nibbling kiss on her shoulder.

"Sexual assault."

His laugh was only a little unexpected. "'Lena … I am not pressing charges so you don't have a case."

"Okay, I'm not going to argue with the FBI, but I'm not going to waste time talking either." With that little bit of warning, she maneuvered to flip him on his back and straddled his hips again, only to have him turn the tables on her and end up on top with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. "Oh, my! Agent Granger, did you carry your gun to bed or are you just really happy I'm in here with you?"

"What do you think, Agent Dunbar?" He practically growled as his luscious lips dropped down to the hollow just above her breastbone, pausing there for a sweet kiss before traveling upwards to just below her right ear.

"I do love a man who knows how to handle his gun." Words escaped her as he proceeded to show her just how well he could handle a weapon of a friendly persuasion. The first time had been wonderful, Yelena had enjoyed the gentle byplay and explorations; this time, the rhythm was more energetic, more needy and far more primal as she relinquished control to Colby and he didn't betray her trust. Once more, amazingly, the two of them managed to climax simultaneously and unlike the first time, this time Yelena found herself being vocal in her appreciation as the explosions rocketed through her body. Even though she could feel his arms straining not to give out on him, Colby managed to collapse beside her instead of on top of her, but it had required a little careful maneuvering on both their parts.

"Damn, Yelena … do you have any idea what you do to me?" He asked as he leaned on one elbow and gazed down upon her, using his free hand to gently brush locks of her wild hair out of her face before bending over to give her a soft kiss on tender lips.

"I have some idea." She answered as she lay with her head pillowed on one of her arms, leaving the other free to explore the body next to hers with light, trailing fingers. "I don't think I could move an inch right now. I feel wonderfully relaxed…" Her hand trailed down below his waist to gently cup his firm butt and press him close to her once more. "…But I wouldn't say 'no' if you want to play some more, CeeJay."

She managed not to pout when he stopped her hand from wandering further. "You are insatiable, not that I'm complaining but it _is_ Monday and I am pretty sure we both have to work today, right?" He kissed the palm of her hand before dropping it to reach past her to snag his watch from the bedside table. "Hmm… it's only 0530hrs, I suppose we could play a little more, unless you need some sleep?"

His smile was teasing and brilliant and Yelena reached up to pull his head down so she could taste that smile on her own lips. She was rewarded with the sound of his watch hitting the floor before his hand curled around her breast and his fingers worked a subtle magic on the mound. They didn't, quite, make love a third time, but even if there wasn't any actual intercourse, the sentiment was the same and Yelena wondered if she'd ever be able to get him into _her_ bed. The guest bed was serviceable, but it was a little more firm that she really preferred.

His warm sensual lips were slowly blazing a trail down the center of her body, pausing twice to pay full and luxurious attention to her breasts, and he was currently lapping his tongue around her navel before moving further south, which is when she stopped him and pulled his head back up to where she could see into his eyes. "I can't get enough of you, 'Lena."

She kissed him fully in response. "I feel the same way, Colby . . . Oh snap!" She shot out from under him, leaving him to teeter on the edge of the bed, the idea fully formed in her mind and needing to tell the right person what it was. She didn't even bother grabbing the discarded camisole or the sheet that was on the floor as she exited the guest room.

"What the hell? Lena?!" Colby's voice sounded seriously confused as it echoed down the hall to her room where she snatched up her cell phone and walked back to the guest room before flipping it open and making a call.

"Sorry, Babe … gimme a moment." She smiled at him, noticing that he'd managed not to hit the floor and was lying, centerfold style, on the bed without covering anything. His appreciative expression made her feel beautiful and she stood in the doorway, one arm braced against frame and stretched up over her head. Yelena took careful pains to make sure she was in top physical condition and, from the way Colby's appearance changed; it was worth the efforts she'd made.

_"Hello?" _Came the muzzy voiced answer on the fifth ring.

"Sunny!" She pulled the phone away from her ear for a second before getting back on. "Yeah, I know, it's early - or late - whatever. Do your magic, it'll probably be a miniscule connection but I _know_ all three victims are connected. Yes, yes, its overtime. I'll clear it with Langford. Yeah, well, I finally got my mind off the case for a little bit and the thought smacked me upside the head. I'll see you at the office shortly. Bye." She snapped the clamshell phone shut and sauntered over to the guest bed. "Sorry about that, Colby. Idea struck and I had to get Sunny working on it." She leaned over him and planted a kiss on his lips. "Now, I need to go shower, get dressed and head to headquarters. You going to get some sleep or—"

He reached out and pulled her back into his arms. "So glad I could be of service." He said, the smile taking the sting from his words.

"Oh more than you can possibly guess, Granger." How was she ever going to tell him just how long it had been between lovers?

"What was this about a shower?"

"There's room if you're no longer wanting sleep." She rolled to her right, off his body where he'd pulled her, and sat back up. "Of course, the idea that you're here, waiting ... could get me to come back from the office faster."

He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him and then bowed, gallantly, toward her. "Lead the way, mi'Lady."


	9. Chapter 9

See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

Rated **"M"** for Mature

**Part Nine**

Richard Stringfield rolled out of the rollaway bed in the Wilshire Grand Hotel room he'd bunked in with Lenny Goldblum and Doctor Michael Meese and glared at both men, still snoozing but hardly peacefully. Having been in the business as long as he had, and a stint in the Navy prior to his LEO/investigator career, Rick was used to snorers; even his wife would snore when her allergies flared up and he knew he snored. But the noise coming out of Lenny could not be called simple snoring. He snapped up his trilling cell phone before it could ring more than once. "Stringfield. Yeah? Okay, so do what you can until she gets into the office. She told you what? Crap, that means you're going to have to run that program again, but focus on non-official activities … how in the hell should I know what ones to look at? Everything!" He snapped his cell shut and turned around to see Doc Meese sitting up, looking at him. "Sorry, Doc, didn't mean to wake you."

He was a little surprised when Meese made 'wait a moment' motions with his hands before raising them up to his head, where they hovered over his ears for a second before he dropped them back to his lap. "What was that again, Rick?"

"Earplugs?"

"Oh yes. I had room service send up a couple of sets the first night after Mister Auditory Torture fell asleep before I did." Meese got up, dropping two hot orange colored foam plugs on the beside table. "Was that phone call significant? Should I nudge Lenny into wakefulness?"

Rick shook his head. "No, let me grab a shower while you order up some breakfast foods and then we'll wake sleeping ugly."

"You do realize that this lovely establishment has never ending hot water and it's virtually impossible for Lenny to steal it all?" Meese asked even as he picked up the room's phone and dialed room service.

"Yes, I know that, Mike, but I also know that – somehow – if Lenny gets in there before me, I'll be taking a cold shower, and not because I want to." Rick grabbed his shaving kit and walked into the huge bathroom, closed and locked the door behind him. Trusting Doc Meese to order something decent.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Don finished pulling his shirt on before answering his cell phone as it trilled, vibrated and rattled across the dresser. He checked the display before answering, it wasn't a number he'd seen before but he recognized the area code – someone in San Diego was calling. _'Probably a wrong number.'_ He thought before snapping open the phone and greeting the caller. "Eppes."

_"Good morning, Agent Eppes … sounds like you're just getting up and around."_

He glared at the phone before responding. "Dunbar … you sound down right chipper."

_"I've been up for a while. I'm chasing a lead in Diego and – if I'm right – I may need to borrow you and your team, mine are just too well known, even at Miramar."_

He tucked the cell under his chin as he sat down on the bed, buttoned his shirt up and slipped his feet into his shoes. "Uh-huh, where's my agent this morning, Dunbar?"

_"Let's see … it's nearly zero-seven-thirty hours, Granger's probably halfway back to LA or already there."_

"He didn't stay with you?" Don was puzzled, after the shocks Dunbar had gotten yesterday – even if she'd known one was coming – had left her visibly shaken and Colby had been extremely solicitous of the NCIS agent. The younger agent had even driven Dunbar back to her home in her vehicle.

_"He stayed with me, but I don't usually wake my guests up when I'm out the door early. I gave him the keys to my Tahoe and borrowed a vehicle from our fleet. If you see him, remind him I'll want my truck back."_

"I'll do that. What lead are you chasing?" He got up, reached into the closet and blindly snagged a tie, grimaced when he looked at it and tossed it back before deciding on one that was a nice silver-gray. He also grabbed his dark gray sport coat.

_"A thin one. Look, if I'm right, and I'm in no way sure that I am - even after kicking Sunny out of bed way too early to do a data search, I won't be able to do the surveillance with my team."_

"So you need unknown faces and who better than a FBI team from LA?"

_"You could say that."_

"All right, let me get in to the office, gather up the team—" Don stopped suddenly. "Wait a minute ... if most of your team is here, and Granger's on his way back and Sunny's in the office—Who's your backup?"

_"What makes you think I need any? I'm just waiting for the manager of a club here at Miramar to show up so I can talk to him, then I'm going right back to Pendleton."_

Don snatched up his keys, and the travel mug of half decaf/half normal coffee he'd brewed up earlier, as he headed out of his place. "Dunbar … Yelena, that is stupid and you know it. Never go anywhere without backup, especially if you're going somewhere that might be ground zero." He practically snarled at the woman, not really believing her audacity.

Her laughter seemed a little forced. _"Like you have never gone alone to beard a suspect in their den, Eppes."_ It wasn't framed as a question; it was a plain and simple statement.

"Yeah, but that's—"

_"If you say it's different 'cause you're a man … I'll be glad to remind you that the last 15 federal agents killed in the line of duty were men. Masculinity is not a knife or bullet-proof shield."_

He reached his SUV and unlocked the driver's side door. "You're right, but going in without back up is more than a little stupid for a senior agent."

_"Agreed. Which is probably why I've got a Miramar base police unit sitting in the parking lot with me."_

"Why didn't you just tell me that in the first place?" He climbed into his GMC and moved to finish the conversation before starting the powerful V-8 engine. "So, you want everyone to meet you at NCIS there at Pendleton or somewhere else?"

_"Pendleton. If nothing else, I can get my team back here and Mouse can feed his damn snakes before I have to."_

"Snakes? No, no, never mind. Okay, we'll try to be there before 10, but a lot depends on the traffic."

_"Right. Thanks, Eppes."_ Dunbar hung up before Don could and he started calling his team, using the hands-free function on his cell, alerting them to the prospect of traveling south. Megan had still been at her home when he reached her, David was just arriving at work – there was a report he was needing to go over before turning it over to the prosecutor's office and Colby, sounded like he was caught in traffic.

_"Granger—"_

"Colby, where are you?"

_"Uh, sitting on the Five behind a military convoy."_

"Approaching LA?"

_"Uh, no … I turned around and am approaching the San Onofre exit. Why?"_

"What made you turn around?"

_"Not sure … gut instinct?"_

Don wasn't sure but he was fairly confident that Colby was fibbing. Not about where he was, but why he'd turned around, however, he wasn't going to push the Agent. Too many times Colby's instincts had come through and broke open a case so everyone, even Megan, learned to listen to Granger when he said he 'had a feeling.' "There's a good chance your gut is, once again, correct. Dunbar called me, she's chasing a possible lead and wants to have everyone meet up at her office at Pendleton as soon as possible."

_"She take Agent Keynes with her?"_

"No." Don couldn't help but hear his agent cursing and calling Yelena all sorts of stubborn before he could provide further clarification. "Colby, relax, she's at Miramar and she's got a base patrol squad with her."

_"Good. Okay, I'm coming up on the gate and the Marines here frown on distracted driving. I'll wait with Keynes for everyone to show up."_

"Just sit tight, we'll be there as soon as I can round up our team and Dunbar's." Colby made a non-committal grunt of semi-agreement before closing down his end of the call, leaving Don to face the morning traffic into downtown with only the chatter of the talk radio show on 1360, and there were times when Beck just really irritated Don – like today – and he changed over to the FM band and 95.5 KLOS.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Colby was pretty sure Agent Sunshine 'Sunny' Keynes suspected there was far more to his hanging around the office than he'd tried to let on, but she was also smart enough – or still too new an agent – not to say anything. He'd asked her, earlier, if there was anything he could help her with in her part of the investigation but her only answer was kind of snippy and something about needing a new algorithm and trying to come up with it from scratch. He'd stepped away from the infuriated agent, then pulled out his cell phone dialed a certain number and spoke quietly to the person on the other end before handing the device to her.

"Here, talk to Charlie, he might be able to help you."

"What is he, one of the techno-geeks your department manages to snatch up before NCIS can talk to them on recruitment days?"

"Something like that."

He walked back over to where Yelena's desk was, sat down in her chair and watched as Sunshine slowly realized who she was talking with, then tried not to laugh at her when she started to profusely apologize to Charlie, while flipping Colby The Bird.

One thing he'd noticed about Yelena's desk earlier was she was neat. Not overly or obsessively neat but there wasn't anything on the surface that shouldn't be there and, flicking open the middle drawer, he found a rather large collection of pens and various sizes and colors of post-it-note pads. He pulled out one of the larger pads and an aqua colored click pen and started writing down what they knew about Jarnagan and Ramirez. It didn't amount to much.

The desk phone on Keynes' desk started to ring and she hit a few buttons on it while still typing, one-handedly, on her computer and talking with Charlie on Colby's cell phone and suddenly her phone stopped ringing and the one on Yelena's desk started up. Instead of answering it immediately, like he would've if it had been his phone on his desk in his federal agency, Colby looked over at Keynes who was gesturing for him to pick up the line.

Taking a deep breath, Colby did as instructed and picked up the trilling phone. "NCIS, Agent Dunbar's desk, Agent Granger speaking."

_"Agent, this is Corporal Garcia at the Main gate. Your office wanted to know when Agent Dunbar came though? We just waved her onto post two minutes ago."_

"Thank you, Corporal, I'll make sure the proper folks are notified." He hung up, glanced at his watch, realized he had about 7 minutes before Yelena would be arriving, looked over at Sunny and saw her still chattering and typing like a madwoman. Pulling the scribbled on sheet of paper off the pad, Colby quickly scribed a message on a clean sheet, then slapped the note on Keynes' desk as he walked by on his way to the main stairwell.

He was leaning against a sidewalk railing when a dark blue, late 90's, Chevy Caprice – which had seen better days – pulled into the lot and parked in the Agents Only parking area. Colby stood up straight, and watched as Yelena climbed out of the driver's side and sauntered up to him. Her tone of voice was decidedly amused as she greeted him.

"Hi, stranger. I'm guessing you didn't make it back to LA before Eppes called you?" She kept walking toward the NCIS building, forcing him to keep up with her long stride.

"Actually, I was on my way back here when Don reached me." He held the door open for her, and didn't say anything in response to her questioning look until they were through the security checkpoint and then she steered him toward the back and into what looked like an emergency stairwell. Once they were through the door and it closed behind them, Colby reached out and pulled Yelena close. "Would you believe me if I said I missed you so much I had to come right back?"

Her response wasn't unexpected, but the intensity was. Her kiss started off light and sensual and rapidly ramped up to hot and sexual before she pulled back, leaving her arms draped over his shoulders. "I missed you too … but why are you _really_ here, CeeJay?"

He let out a sigh as he held her close, enjoying the feel of her warmth against his body. "I kinda got hit upside the head by a question I didn't want to ask you over the phone, but didn't think could wait either." She looked directly into his eyes, her own blue-gray orbs darkening as she waited for him to continue his reasoning. "'Lena … we didn't, I mean we should've but … what if you're pregnant?"

Her laughter was quiet as she laid her head back against his chest. "Oh dear, is that what got you to turn around, Sweetie?" Colby felt the heat rising in his face in what he was sure was a spectacular blush before Yelena answered. "CeeJay … Colby, I was the aggressor in what happened this morning, do you really think I wouldn't have taken precautions?"

"You did?"

"Yes, I did." She tugged on his arm until he came off the wall and then guided him to sit down beside her on the stairs. "CeeJay, I'm on birth control pills, have been since I was sixteen, and though you didn't see or otherwise detect it, I also used – at least the first time – a contraceptive film."

He leaned against her a little more than was absolutely necessary due to the narrow stairs. "I'm glad one of us was thinking then, 'cause I sure wasn't." He brought his hand up to gently run a fingertip along her jaw, drawing her close for a kiss. It wasn't like the first one; this one was quick but just as passion-filled as he could possibly make it. Once he felt her responding, not to mention knowing he was rising to the occasion, he stopped and smiled at her. "You have the most intoxicating powers, Yelena Dunbar."

"Oh?" She asked, leaning her forehead against his.

"Yeah, you make me forget everything but you when we're alone in the same room." He got back to his feet, hoping she wouldn't protest his next move as he held out a hand to assist her to her feet. "Shouldn't we get up stairs before Keynes sends the rescue teams after us?"

"Not if she knows what's good for her." Yelena sighed as she accepted his hand up, and then used her momentum to propel herself back into his arms. "As much as I don't want to go … I mean, you are handy and no one other than me uses this stairwell … but you're right. We should get back to work."

Colby nodded, then let her go from his embrace after one more sweet kiss and then followed her – appreciating the view – up the stairs to the third floor where her team's office was located.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Megan Reeves followed Don and David as they trailed behind the NCIS party who they had followed onto the massive Marine Corps Base. It was one thing to see how large an area the post covered on the Southern California maps, quite another to drive from the northern most gate to the 'main part' of the base near Oceanside and take nearly three-quarters of an hour to travel that distance – at speeds not surpassing 40mph and, often, dropping as low as 25mph.

The Ford which Stringfield had driven, followed by the large Support Van slash Coroner's wagon driven by Goldblum, had turned off the main drag – Vandegrift Blvd – into a large parking area outside a rather non-descript brick building. Stringfield parked, got out of his car and motioned for the FBI team to park, while the van went past the parking pad to pull around the back of the building. She pulled the Dodge Charger into a spot, made sure to readjust the seat and steering wheel like she'd found it, before climbing out to see Granger walking out of the building and approaching them. She couldn't help but notice how relaxed the younger agent looked and had to work very hard to keep a knowing smile from breaking out on her face.

"Hey, guys … Rick, Yelena's got Sunny setting up the conference room, she's in MTAC contacting both Langford and Shepherd." Colby said as soon as he was close enough to greet the group without raising his voice. "Thanks for bringing my Dodge down, Megan." He took the keys from her outstretched hand, but she held him back as Rick led Don and David into the NCIS building.

"You look _rested_, Colby." Megan couldn't help but tease him and was rewarded with a rapid blush on Granger's features.

"Yeah, well—"

Now the grin she'd been suppressing was permitted to shine. "Soooo… she followed my advice?"

"Followed … you told 'Lena to—?" Megan nodded. "Well, damn." He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, it was good advice."

"Any time, Colby. I just hope the two of you will try to build something more than a purely physical relationship." Megan said as they approached the entryway.

"Oh? Since when did you start giving out advice to the lovelorn, Megs?" He opened and held the door open for her, then waited as she went through the security checkpoint rigmarole before joining him at the bottom of the wide staircase. "So, care to explain yourself, Miss Matchmaker?"

She walked up to the first floor landing, where they could see people coming down or coming up from the main floor and stop talking if need be, before pulling him to a halt. "Yelena pretty much all but admitted she had developed feelings of an _… amorous_ nature for you and, well, it was tying her up in knots. So, yeah, I basically told her to take the first opportunity to jump your bones and, apparently, it worked. Right?"

The light blush that had crept up his face in the parking lot below turned a deeper red and crawled past his cheeks to light up his whole face, even as he grinned like a very happy feline. "Yeah, it worked. Look ... Megan … 'Lena kinda led Don to believe that I didn't stay with her, well I did but that I left long before I did and—"

"Got your back, Colby. No worries." She turned him around and, after snaking her arm though his, walked up the remainder of the stairs with him. "Just remember this if I ever call you requesting an alibi in the future."

"Always, Megs."

- - - - -

Don watched as David scoped out the NCIS office, even as Rick pointed out to them both where the conference room was located. Then he noticed how David winced in sympathy as Agent Stringfield stopped by a desk in the wide-open office space and booted up a computer tower that reminded Don of his first computer in college and a gawdawful, hugely clunky CRT monitor. As a supervisory agent in the FBI, Don knew other agencies often had to fight – tooth and nail – for funding from congress but seeing the state of the NCIS office here at Camp Pendleton… he wondered how the agents got anything done. David walked over to where Agent Keynes was sitting, her computer was on but Don could see that she had somehow hooked her laptop up to the older machine.

He looked around for Dunbar and, instead, spotted Granger and Reeves coming into the office area looking like they'd been updating each other on the events of the cases the FBI side of the investigation was handling. He nodded a greeting to the younger agent, and then glanced back around the area and, this time, spotted Agent Dunbar coming out of a room whose door was sliding back into place. She nodded a greeting toward him as she stopped by Stringfeild's desk, had a few words with him and then came over to where Don was standing.

"You made good time getting down here, Eppes."

"Would've been here sooner but—"

"But the NCIS van can barely go seventy without falling apart, and that's on a good day." She gestured for him, and everyone else, to follow her into the conference room.

After seeing the state of the office area, Don pleasantly surprised to find the conference room was completely different. The spacious area behind the solid wood door had richly paneled walls in what looked like teak; the large table had the appearance of having been cut from the deck of a ship; the chairs looked totally sinful but, upon sitting in one, Don realized they were functional and not all that comfortable after all.

"Sorry about the mess, the renovation crew just finished up this room late last night and while a lot of things have been put in, the computer interfaces and the other new toys have yet to be hooked up." Dunbar apologized as she took a seat at the far end of the long table.

"This is a mess?" Don looked around again and, this time, spotted what he'd missed the first time – the fine layer of dust on nearly everything and a few drop cloths still taped to the floor, protecting the turquoise blue carpeting, near the baseboards and the taint of varnish in the air. "This is better than that …industrial look at our place."

"Can't take any credit for it … we stole the idea from Admiral Sandecker of NUMA, with Director Pitt's permission, of course."

"This is nice, a touch of the sea in the middle of the high desert." Granger commented and Don wondered how his agent hadn't seen the room before, and then realized the door hadn't been marked and had, until Dunbar had placed her palm on the reader beside the door, been locked.

"That was the plan … keep us landlocked agents from forgetting we can become Agents Afloat at any time the Department of the Navy needs us to." Before Dunbar could say anything further, the door opened once more to admit Doctor Michael Meese. "Where's Lenny, Mouse?"

"The poor boy had to make a head call … something about my driving." The doctor shrugged innocently as he sat down at the table and Dunbar let out a snort of laughter.

Don shook his head; the van had been weaving in its lane the entire time he'd been following it, but he assumed it was because of crosswinds catching the high profile vehicle, not due to the driver. Reeves and Sinclair had made it a point, this time, to intersperse a little more with the NCIS team and Granger had, once again, sat to Dunbar's side, leaving a few chairs for Goldblum to choose from when he showed up.

"You about ready, Sunny?" Dunbar asked of her Barbie doll-like agent, who had brought her laptop with her and was busy trying to hook it up to something Don had no clue about.

"Just about, Boss … just once more—Got it! Stupid damn machine." The young agent sat back in her chair and picking up what looked like a pen, did something that caused a screen to drop from the ceiling behind Dunbar and for the floor to ceiling blinds to close, almost completely blotting out the sunlight.

Dunbar moved out of the way of the descending screen and reached into a back pocket to pull something out, it was hard to tell what, and then she moved around the room putting whatever it was she had in her hand on the table in front of each person present. "Sunny, turn the lights back up for now, if you can?"

Don watched as the young agent fiddled around with the pen-shaped remote, then she dropped it back on the table and with a few clicks on the laptop, she got the lights to come back up but left the screen down and the blinds shut. He looked down at the item Dunbar had placed in front of him and found a simple business card. The blue, yellow and red colors were off-set by the picture of a bulldog in shades with a spiked collar on one side and simple contact information in black ink on the other.

Megan voiced the question in Don's mind before he could. "What is this SMG?"

"SMG? Sarah Michelle Gellar? What?" Agent Goldblum asked as he walked into the room.

Dunbar chuckled, as did a few others. "Get your mind off Buffy and back in the game, Lenny." She turned to look back at the assembled team, dividing her attention between Megan, Don and David as equally as she could. "SMG. Single Marines Group. It's a special organization that helps single Marines or Navy personnel here at Camp Pendleton who want to take advantage of the discounts various places, like Disneyland, give to married couples without being married." She handed Don another business card, only this one was sealed in an evidence bag and didn't have a Camp Pendleton address on it. "This one belongs to the MCAS Miramar Single Marines Group, we got it off Jarnagan, and that is the connection between Ramirez, Jarnagan and Socarro."

David shook his head. "That can't be it, Dunbar. Ramirez was engaged to be married."

"Trust me, that _is_ the connection, however tentative it may appear." Dunbar said as she returned to her seat. "The Miramar group was, reportedly, helping Ramirez and his fiancée plan their stag parties and were instrumental in finding the proper venue for the actual wedding." She nodded at Agent Keynes, whose fingers flew across her laptop again, lowering the lights to half strength and turning on an overhead projector. Data filled the screen above Dunbar's head. "The Miramar SMG was also the first place Socarro stopped once he was back from his assignments, phone logs show that a payphone at the club where the SMG meet is where he called me from the one and only time he contacted me, and it's that very same club that Jarnagan visited the night was killed. Joining the Single Marine Group in hopes of being 'in' on the Biathlon they run every June."

"So there's a serial killer stalking the SMG?" Megan asked.

Colby shook his head. "That was my first thought too, Megan. But then I recalled the one thing other thing that tied all three men together - post-mortem."

Don nodded and snapped his fingers. "The heroine levels in their bodies."

Granger nodded. "Right."

"I think someone is using the SMG at Miramar to scout for mules." Dunbar's voice was flat and cold even as she looked Don in the eyes. "I was hoping that since I'm already a member of the SMG, I would be able to get in there and smoke the son of a bitch out into the open."

"So, you want to be a lure?" Don asked.

"I'm not exactly the right 'type' Eppes ... our three known victims didn't have tits." She looked down the table at both Goldblum and Sinclair. And then, reluctantly, over at Colby.

Don understood. "Okay, who's the bait then?"

Megan followed Dunbar's gaze and knew who the NCIS agent thought could carry it off, but didn't want to ask him. So she suggested it. "Well, Colby's got the most recent experience in uniform..."

Colby grinned. "Women do like a man in uniform."

"Yeah, we do. But you're not going to be alone." Dunbar stated flatly.

"It's not like Lenny or David can go in with me..."

"Can't they?" Dunbar's gaze went directly to Sinclair. "David ... ever wanted to be a Marine?"

"Ooo-rah." David said.

Megan practically trilled. "Ooh, dress blues or something more laid back?"

Everyone looked at Yelena.

"Laid back. SMG members rarely wear dress blues in the clubs... unless it's for a formal event, like the Marine Corps Birthday Ball."

"So, both Colby and David go in, one backing up the other?" Don asked.

Dunbar nodded. "Yes, but I'll have a few more NCIS and Marine security types sprinkled about. I am nearly 100 certain the killer isn't military but, rather, a civilian employee of the Miramar enlisted club where the singles group socializes."

Nods of agreement from the assembled agents around the table.

Megan pointedly looked at the polo shirt Colby was wearing. "At least one of you doesn't have to go far for your undercover wear." Colby blushed but Megan pretended not to notice. Don, however, was happy to see his team was back to kidding around with each other like they used to. "How're you going to get David his duds, Yelena?" Megan asked, trying not to laugh at Colby's discomfort.

"I bought a shirt like Colby's and an official USMC track suit from Camp Pen's PX ... I put them behind Sunny's desk. She'll have it ready to go when we head down to San Diego."

David quirked an eyebrow. "A track suit?"

Dunbar nodded. "You'll like them, they were designed by a top fashion designer out of New York in early '08 for our wounded Marines coming back from overseas. They've just started being issued to able-body Marines so they're a fairly common sight on the bases."

"Hey, as long as I look as good as Granger here, I'm all set." David tossed a mock punch as his partner, who 'blocked' it with a grin.

"I had to guess at sizes … but you're what, Sinclair? A extra large through the shoulders and a trim medium through the waist with about a 32" inseam?" Don didn't believe it was possible for David to blush, but Dunbar managed to get him to do just that, but he also nodded in agreement.

Don leaned forward. "When do you want to get this show on the road and down to Miramar, Dunbar?"

She paused to look at her watch before answering. "It's straight up Noon now … we'll break for lunch, get Sinclair and Lenny suited up, you too Granger, then do an equipment check—" Dunbar looked at Don, "Sometimes our covert communications gear doesn't work properly and once we're done, we'll head down to Sunny Diego. Leave here around 1600hrs?"

"Sounds good to me." Don stood up and pulled his cell phone from his belt. "Let me call down to our Diego office and see if they have communication gear we can use on a back up basis…"

Megan spoke up. "No need, Don. I brought a full surveillance kit down with me. It's in the trunk of Granger's Dodge."

"Good thinking, Megan. Then all I have to do is tell Diego we're going to be playing in their sandbox…"

The three women in the room exchanged glances before Megan quipped. "That's why it's a good thing to have a female on the team."

Dunbar nodded, then turned to Agent Keynes as if to explain. "Left to their own devices, men tend to forget details, women never forget even the tiniest nits."

Keynes smiled in agreement and Don had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing aloud when she responded. "That's why women let men think they run things when it's actually us gals who keep the world machine going."

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Yelena was mostly happy as she packed away most of the comsets which had passed inspection, the two which hadn't qualified as functional had already been bundled up for a trip to the repair shop. She had little hope the piezo-electric earpieces could be restored to something resembling usefulness, but the West Coast NCIS Deputy Assistant Director wouldn't sign off on purchasing new equipment unless it could be proven – beyond a shadow of a doubt – the 10 year old equipment could not be repaired.

Lenny stepped into the conference room, Sinclair and Granger on his six, and Yelena looked up to see all three were dressed in some sort of Marine-themed clothing. Except Goldblum, he had bucked the idea of going undercover as a Marine and was currently wearing the latest official issue tracksuit for the US Navy. "How do we look as bait, Boss?"

"Pretty good, but—" She made it a point to inspect all three, even motioning for them to turn around, before making her pronouncement. "There's something seriously wrong. With each of you."

Sinclair and Lenny looked confused but Colby just rolled his eyes, as if he'd been expecting her to make some sort of fuss. "Yelena, Rick went over every stitch, burned off more Irish Pennants than I'd seen since boot camp, and made sure all three of us recalled or learned how to walk like military members. There's nothing wrong with—"

"Your hair is too long."

"What?"

"You and Lenny … your haircuts are seriously out of regulation. Downright shaggy." She stared at David. "And you, Sinclair, that 'stache and goatee _have_ to go."

He backed away from her, his gaze drifting over to Colby. "Man, you said there might be a way out of that, Colby!"

Granger nodded but before he could say anything, Yelena spoke up. "There is, but it'll require a trip to the Bureau of Personnel here at Pendleton 'cause I'm pretty sure my QD person would not be able to gin up the required paperwork." She glanced over at Lenny. "Goldblum, you should've known you were out of regs and made the proper adjustments before stepping back in here."

The NCIS Agent let out a sigh and nodded in agreement. "You're right, I should've."

"Yes, you should've." She pulled her cell phone out and, after sparring a glance at her list of phone numbers, hit the call button and waited for the other end to be answered. "Yes, this is Agent Dunbar over at NCIS, I have two people in serious need of a cut … is Kim available? Good. They'll be there in about 20 minutes." Yelena slapped the clamshell shut and looked at her agent. "Go. Kim's expecting you both. Regulation. No freaking horseshoes or high and tights."

Lenny nodded then tugged on Granger's arm to get the FBI agent to follow him as Yelena turned her attention back to Sinclair, who anticipated her. "You said there might be a way for me to avoid shaving?"

"Yes, there is." She walked up to him and placed a hand along his jaw. "Tell me, Sinclair, do you ever get a serious case of razor burn?"

"Sometimes—"

Yelena dropped her hand. "Well, then you and I need to go over to BuPers and do a lot of convincing of one of the clerks there." She grabbed him by the elbow and the two of them left the conference room and then, after informing the rest of the combined teams where they were off to, they headed out of the NCIS building.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Colby wasn't sure what he was expecting as he rode shotgun to Lenny Goldblum as the NCIS Agent drove the same dark blue Chevy Caprice Yelena had used earlier to a part of Camp Pendleton the FBI Agent hadn't seen yet. On most of the Army posts he'd been stationed at, there was a barbershop on the training side of the post for active duty personnel, and a combination beauty salon and barbershop somewhere on the dependants' side. However no post he'd been stationed at had ever had the sheer square mileage of terrain that US Marine Corp Base Camp Pendleton covered. He'd taken the time to locate and study a station map while hanging around NCIS, and while the 'main side' was the section of the base nearest to Oceanside, there was also another population area up near the San Onofre part of the military reservation.

Lenny pulled off Vandergrift Boulevard and Colby couldn't help but be impressed by the site of a virtual town center, albeit grossly over militarized, smack dab in the middle of Camp Pendleton. The primary Post Exchange was about the size of the old Ben Franklin's store in Cascade, the Commissary looked like a brick warehouse or hanger for a small bomber and the movie complex looked just like it's civilian four-screen counterpart. He was a little surprised to spy not only a Subway Sandwich Shop, but also a Domino's, a Wendy's and a Starbucks; all within easy walking distance of the PX, the commissary and cinema. Lenny, to Colby's surprise, was parking in front of the Starbucks, which is when he noticed the hair salon.

"Star Cuts?" He muttered, still recovering from seeing civilian businesses on a military post and here was another right in front of him.

"Yeap. Most of the employees are Marine Dependants, but the owner, who we're going to see, isn't. Full blown Civilian, but don't let Kim's mannerisms fool you." Lenny climbed out of the Chevy, forcing Colby to follow him, and walked directly into the shop.

He walked in to see Lenny being embraced by a woman of Asian descent, who was taller than most Asian ladies – nearly of a height with Yelena, who was close to his own six foot – and she was already chiding the NCIS Agent.

"Lenny … it's been three months since I've seen you, no wonder Dunbar sent you to me." Her warm dark brown eyes glanced over at Colby. "But I may forgive you. New Agent?" He felt himself blushing under her less than discreet assessment.

"No, Kim … Let me introduce you to FBI Agent Colby Granger. Colby, this is Kimberly Jiang, owner-operator of this rather quaint establishment. Kim, we're working a joint case and, well, Yelena sent us over to get spiffy enough to pass as Senior NCO's." Lenny pulled her attention back to him and muttered something too low for Colby to hear in the woman's ear.

She looked impressed now as she once again sized Colby up. "Ah, well, it shouldn't take too much to get your hair back into shape, Agent Granger. So I'll start on Lenny first. Please, have a seat and I'll be with you shortly." Kim gestured to a well-appointed seating area, a collection of three plush armchairs and a couch surrounding a low coffee table loaded down with all kinds of reading material. Spotting a newer issue of a National Geographic that he'd not read before, Colby picked up the magazine, sat down on one of the armchairs and settled in for a wait.

Ten minutes later, foot steps approaching where he was seated made Colby look up and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at Lenny. Before Kim Jiang had gotten her clipper out, the NCIS Agent had looked somewhat like an overgrown poodle. Now … "Nice look, Lenny."

The other man ran a hand over his new hairstyle, it wasn't – quite – a buzz cut, but it was close. "It's called a flattop, Granger, and it's within regulations. Barely." He held out a hand and pulled Colby to his feet. "Now it's your turn, Granger. Miss Kim's waiting. Oooh, NatGeo, anything good?" The man snagged the magazine from Colby's hand and plopped down onto the couch as Colby scowled and walked into the main salon area.

He realized he was wrong about Kim's height, she was actually taller than six foot, and her eyes didn't have the usual Asian look, but rather an occidental cast. She was sweeping up the last of Lenny's curls from the tiled floor and gestured for him to take a seat in the chair. "Please, sit down, Agent Granger … I'll be right back, just need to toss Lenny's remains into the bin in the back." When she came back she'd changed out of the purple 'china doll' top and black silk pants into a simple jade green colored tee shirt over faded blue jeans. "Sorry, but Goldblum's hair is very insidious, if I didn't change clothing I'd be itching like a dog with fleas in about 30 minutes."

Colby ducked his head as she threw the poncho-like covering over his shoulders and snapped the neckline closed, then tried not to purr when her hands ran over his hair. "Decent cut, about 3 weeks ago, damn near military length … former Army?" He nodded in response to her question. "Makes it easy on me. I'll just trim. You want clippers or straight razor?"

"Whatever you think best, Ma'am."

"Hmm…" She ran a hand over the top of his scalp, pulling up a lock here and there, testing the texture and thickness. Just like his usual barber had the first time he'd shown up. "Straight razor. I get the impression you hair curls like crazy and clippers won't catch all the strays like the razor can."

Kim laid him back for a quick shampoo and towel drying before she started to cut his hair, all the while keeping up a friendly chatter. He found out she wasn't that old, just turned 26 in fact, and she was the second owner of the shop since the Franchise had taken over nearly 15 years ago. She'd actually bought the business off her father, who'd run the place after retiring from the Corps. Colby was very careful not to mention the case the he was working on with Lenny but somehow, someway, in the chatter, Kim Jiang learned something Colby could've sworn they hadn't talked about. She didn't mention it until she had removed the apron and brushed the back of his neck free of loose hairs.

"I'd be very surprised if I didn't see more of you in the future, Agent Granger. Here, my card." She handed him a business card from her back pocket. "If you're ever visiting Pendleton and just really have to have a cut, come see me. I'm pretty sure Yelena wouldn't mind."

She disappeared into the back before he could respond and he walked back out to the waiting area to see Lenny standing up and anxious to get going. "Shouldn't we pay first?"

"Already taken care of. Courtesy of NCIS." Lenny pulled the door open and practically chased Colby out. "Besides, it's not like you could find a place with a 5 haircut anywhere else in SoCal. Right?"

Colby nodded. His usual barber charged 25 for the same type of cut and while the man was good … some women just had a special touch. Kim Jiang was one of those. He tucked Kim's card into his wallet before getting back into the Caprice and hoped he'd have the opportunity to take the woman up on her offer in the future.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Yelena had walked from NCIS headquarters to BuPers with Sinclair. She hadn't intended on testing the agent's physicality, but she also hadn't slowed down her normal walking pace – which was closer to a speed walk than a leisurely stroll – and was actually impressed that the FBI man had managed not only to keep up with her, but hadn't broken out into a sweat either.

She glanced around the oversized office, clerks worked at desks that where only separated by space, no cubicle walls here, until she spotted the one she'd worked with in the past and, more importantly, owed her a favor or two. Yelena leaned over and quietly advised Sinclair, "Let me do all the talking, just stand there and look very put out and more than a trifle upset. Think supervisor called on the carpet by another supervisor."

David nodded his understanding and, like throwing a switch, his face took on the proper expression and Yelena revised her impression of his skills up another notch. Satisfied, she walked up to the clerk's desk and greeted him. "Corporal Jeltsje, how are you?"

"Gunny Dunbar, I'm good. What can I do you for?" Corporal Jonah Jeltsje stood up from his chair, unfolding all six feet seven inches of his painfully thin frame and held out a skeletal-thin hand in greeting.

Yelena smiled and shook the hand with her customary grip, which the 22 year old returned with a slow build up as he grinned at her. "I need a favor, Jonah … can we talk outside?"

"Sure thing, Gunny." He grabbed the attention of the butter-bar in charge of the unit that day, mimed taking a smoke break, then loped off between the desks to a side door. Yelena motioned for Sinclair to follow and they scurried to keep up with the Corporal.

Jeltsje pulled his sateen cap off a shelf near the door and slipped it on as he stepped through the hatch. Sinclair caught the door before Yelena could, and then held it open for her. As she followed the Corporal out, she offered her congratulations to the tow-headed and sun burnt Marine. "I understand someone made the list for the next promotion round to Sergeant. About damn time, Jeltsje."

"Thanks, Gunny. Wouldn't have happened if you hadn't helped me out with that false accusation … and setting up study partners for me through the SMG." He pulled a hard pack of cigarettes from his boot, a good 'hiding spot' for smokes when you didn't want to shove them in a pocket, and lit up. "So, what documents do you need fudged today?"

"Shaving waiver. And some transfer docs. Jonah, this is Agent David Sinclair from the FBI and he's going to be going undercover with my team. I need paperwork for him – kinda obvious what is needed – but I also need papers for a Navy transfer to Miramar and two Marine Instructors to Diego Depot."

Jeltsje looked Sinclair over, then nodded. "I can see him as a Boot Pusher, he reminds me of the sonuvabitch who got me through Diego Depot. Your other instructor … Boots or something else?"

She glanced at Sinclair. "What do you think, David? Could Colby pass as a Firearms Instructor?"

"Oh hell, yeah." He got her attention. "Explain 'boot pusher' to me?"

"Basic Military Drill Instructor. Damn near GOD to young men _trying_ to become Marines." Jeltsje volunteered. "You hate the bastard, then never forget him. He's the one person you can't stand, wouldn't piss on if he were on fire; but he's also the first man you'd follow into hell if he asked."

"Sounds worse than the instructors at Quantico."

"They are, Sinclair. Trust me." Yelena explained. "I practically sleepwalked though the National Federal Agent Academy. Marine Boot at Parris Island was my worse nightmare and the most rewarding experience of my life."

Jeltsje stubbed out his cigarette, stripped the filter off and tossed both pieces in the trash – after making sure it was cool enough. "Let's get started on the paperwork … Sinclair, ever have a case of sand fleas?"

"No…." Yelena nearly laughed out loud at the disgusted tone in the FBI's Agent voice.

"Well, guess what? You do now." Jeltsje's grin was downright evil as he explained the facts of life about facial hair, body hair in general, and assignments in the Middle East. Dunbar just let the Corporal have his fun. He was going to be a great asset to NCIS – once he finished his Criminal Sciences degree and she convinced him to jump ships.


	10. Chapter 10

See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

Rated **"M"** for Mature

_This section also has some Spanish in it and, once again, I didn't get a chance to run it past a native Mexico-Spanish reader/speaker. All mistakes are mine and if you require a translator, try "Reverso Translator" through a Google Search or use Bablefish from AltaVista. Suisan_

**Part Ten**

The two teams, FBI and NCIS, set up their equipment and chose their spots before sending the first undercover team members into the E-Club on Miramar MCAS. As it was, Lenny Goldblum went in first, looking exactly like a new transfer who was a little lost about things in general and obviously wondering if wearing his Navy tracksuit was a good idea. It wasn't too long before David Sinclair followed him in that Lenny was engaged by a friendly mixed group of sailors and Marines in a game of pool. There must have been something a little too intimidating about Sinclair's appearance, cause it took him nearly twenty-eight minutes to strike up a simple conversation with a 'fellow Marine' but then he relaxed into the role and a few more Marines drifted over to talk with the 'poor schmuck' who was about to start his B-Billet assignment, pushing boots at Diego Depot. Forty-seven minutes after Lenny had walked into the E-Club, Colby Granger, in his guise as a Marine Staff Sergeant dressed in his off-duty PT tracksuit, walked in and – following the plan – made his way directly to the bar and ordered a beer. Which he intended to nurse as long as possible, without looking like he was milking it for all it was worth.

Sunny Keynes was in a non-descript panel van, which had been 'abandoned' at the far edge of the E-Club's parking lot earlier that morning – with the approval of the base security squad, coordinating the feeds of the various communications gear being utilized.

Rick Stringfield was listening in and, rarely talking with, Lenny as the man slowly worked his charms on everyone in his group. Megan Reeves was listening in and very occasionally telling David to pull it back a bit in his acting, while Yelena Dunbar got to listen in on Colby, having 'won' the coin toss with Don Eppes – who was sitting in the van with Sunny, ready to call in the troops if backup was required.

After listening to Colby tell more than one female Marine or Navy Gal 'thanks, but no thanks' … and more than two men who made less than covert passes at the FBI Agent … Yelena was tempted to trade places with Eppes. However, just as she was about to suggest it, she heard Colby mutter under his breath.

"_Again? She just won't take a hint_…" He sounded exasperated and Yelena turned the gain up on her equipment to listen to see if she could hear the voice of the woman Colby was complaining about.

"_You're still sitting all alone … you sure you don't want some company?_"

"_Yeah, I'm sure. I really just want to drink my beer, maybe order another before I go back to my quarters and call it a night_."

"_I could buy that beer for you … and keep you warm through the night if you want_?"

Colby spluttered and Yelena couldn't help but imagine him blowing out a sigh into his beer glass before the sound of cloth rubbing on cloth reached her ears and glassware hit wood in a solid 'thunk.' "_No, I don't want. Look, could you just leave me alone? If I wanted companionship don't you think I would've mingled_?"

"_I dunno, some guys seem to prefer women – or men – who come onto them. I just figured you were one of those_."

"_Miss, look, I just got in. I'm still in Bachelor Marine Quarters cause my quarters weren't ready yet and while you're not a bad looking gal … I'm just not interested_."

A derisive snort issued forth over the communications gear. "_What are you? One of those D.A.D.T. Marines? Joined up just to prove your manliness_?"

"_Dee Aay Dee Tee…_" Colby sounded puzzled, then he clearly got it. "_No, I'm not gay. Not that it's **any** of your beeswax, lady. Truth is, my girlfriend is stationed up at Camp Pendleton and since I got out here to SoCal, we've not had a chance to meet up_."

"_Aww, poor man … all frustrated that your woman can't be bothered to make time for you now that you're both on the same coast_." The unseen woman's voice turned soft, purry and seductively throaty. "_You know, what you do here at Miramar doesn't have to make the grapevine at Pendleton. I certainly wouldn't tell your Navy Gal if you won't_."

"_Give me strength,"_ he muttered before his voice became unmistakeningly firm_. "STOP. Before you find yourself in a jam you do not want on your record. Stop. My girlfriend isn't Navy, she's a Marine. Like you. Like me. Unlike you, she's a Gunnery Sergeant and, unlike you, I am not interested in bedding everything of the opposite sex who just happens to wear the uniform. Got that_?"

"_Riiight. She's not here, we are … D.A.D.T. goes in more than one direction, Sarge. It is Sergeant, right_?"

"_Staff Sergeant. And I don't know how else to tell you, but I'm not going anywhere with you_."

"_Your little Gunny of a clerk wouldn't have to know_…"

Colby was clearly getting pissed and from what Sunny was relaying to her from the other team members, David and Lenny were about to move in and 'rescue' Colby from the pushy female. Something that could very well jeopardize the mission. Yelena whispered into the mic and prayed Colby could hear her and would do what she suggested.

"_My Gunny isn't a clerk, Miss. She's an MP. And, I'll have you know, she made the Corps' professional shooting teams more than once. Almost made the Olympic team back in '92, but things came up that were more important to her than Olympic gold._"

"_A shooter? Uh, right. Sorry about my behavior, it was all a really big misunderstanding, have a good night, Sergeant_."

"_'Bout damn time_." Colby sounded vastly relived and Yelena tried not to laugh too loud, knowing that laughter was often contagious and might lead to him breaking cover. "_Uh, I didn't order this, barkeep_."

"_I know. Think of it as a congratulatory drink on getting rid of Sabera without having to resort to violence or verbal abuse. There aren't many who have turned down her offers and those that have … she's made it a point to single them out for ridicule._"

"_I take it that sampling her wares might have won me a trip to the dispensary for a shot of antibiotics or worse_?"

"_Bet on it_."

"_Thanks for the advice, and the beer. There a payphone around here? My cell isn't charged up and I left it back in my temporary quarters anyway_." The bartender must have pointed Colby in the right direction for before too long she heard him closing the door on the old fashioned phone booth she'd spotted in the club earlier, just before her cell phone trilled out in the stillness of her Chevy Tahoe.

"Dunbar."

"_Hey, thanks for helping me get rid of that broad, 'Lena_."

She turned off her mic and turned down the volume on the equipment. "Hey, no problem … you're off air?"

"_Yeah, I did not want Sunny or Don hearing this conversation. Sorry if I embroidered that tale of yours a little too much, but I got the distinct impression 'Sabera' wasn't going to back off without threat of bodily harm_."

Yelena smiled in the dark as she watched a few more people moving into or out of the E-Club's main entrance. "You didn't add too much that wasn't true."

"_Uh? You actually tried for the Olympic team_?"

"Nope, they scouted me … when I was fifteen. I looked into the program, decided it was not what I was interested in and turned them down flat."

"_But you _were_ on the Corps' team_?"

"Still am. Though I'm pretty much an assistant coach nowadays."

"_You are just full of surprises ̶ Okay, I'd better get back on air before my boss decides to come tearing in here_."

"You're doing fine, Colby … just relax a little more and, really, don't turn down a little companionship just because I'm listening in."

"_That's not why I'm turning them away_." He hung up before she could ask him to clarify his remarks and she quickly had to turn the communication equipment back up. She'd just gotten the levels back to their presets when her cell phone trilled out again.

"Dunbar."

"_Everything okay, Dunbar? We lost Granger's signal for a while_." Don Eppes was clearly agitated and at the same time it sounded like he was doing his best not to tease her about the tension he'd heard, and seen, between her and Colby.

"He's fine, Eppes. We just needed to have a little private one-on-one conversation time, that's all."

"_Uh-huh. Well, next time, warn the command van_." He hung up and she keyed the mic to relay the message to Colby.

"We've been told off, Granger. No more private conversations."

"_Don … mind your own business_." Came Colby's quietly muttered response and Yelena had to squelch her mic before she busted the FBI Agent's hearing with her laughter. The rest of the night's surveillance, another three hours worth, was a total bust.

First Colby left the E-Club, in accordance with his earlier stated desire to order and drink a second beer before seeking his quarters. Then Lenny left, apologizing to his new buddies that he really did have to be at his duty station in the morning, no later than 0700hrs or he'd stay longer. David was the last one out, still commiserating with a couple of Marines who were telling tales about the Drill Instructors they'd had as young recruits. Yelena approved of the story swapping. It would give Sinclair a good base to build on, just in case this investigation dragged out past a week and he would have to make an appearance as a probationary Boot Pusher at Diego Depot.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

The next two evenings of the surveillance also ended up being a bust, with teams switching around a little to keep faces as 'fresh' as possible. The only team members not to take a tour inside the E-Club were Eppes, Dunbar and Stringfield. Dunbar even called in a few lesser-known NCIS agents from the analyst sections to help flesh out the stakeout teams.

The afternoon of the fourth day, Doctor Meese heard from Doctor Grissom in Las Vegas about his bugs; the carpet beetle was, just as Meese had feared, all too common to help with pinpointing a geographical area. The blowflies were also of a common variety, however, what made them unique was what Grissom had found in the undeveloped larval stomachs. Diatoms. In particular, diatoms that had recently been identified as coming from the waters of the northern Gulf of California and some of the underwater rivers of the Coronado desert region.

The information from the entomologist wasn't as helpful as the investigators had been hoping for, but it was a little better than nothing when they looked at a map. Total square miles covered in the potential area of the killer's preferred slaying fields were too much for any sort of aerial search, so it was pretty much up to the teams on the ground, NCIS and FBI, to catch the serial criminal before he struck again. And it had to be done soon, or else Sinclair and Granger would have to firm up their cover identities by actually putting in time as Probationary Drill Instructor and a Firearms Instructor.

Dunbar's NCIS team had opted to stay at their homes, but the FBI team relocated for the duration of the surveillance detail to a hotel not too far from MCAS Miramar's main gates. Well, Reeves and Eppes were at the hotel, Sinclair and Granger were actually housing in the Miramar Temporary Bachelor Quarters, thanks to some string pulling from Yelena Dunbar with a clerk in Base Housing who 'owed' her a favor.

The teams were, currently, gathered in the briefing room of Miramar's Security Police building, prepping for the evening's duties. Once again, Sinclair and Granger were going in to the club and this time, Agent Keynes was going to accompany Granger. Dunbar had to spend nearly a full hour, on the drive to Miramar from Pendleton, reassuring the younger agent that she was 'okay' with the idea of Keynes 'hanging on or all over' Granger and trying to get Sunny relaxed enough to act natural with Granger once the assignment actually kicked off. Right at that moment, the teams where checking their communications gear and Sinclair was pulling on a new shirt over his jeans, one Dunbar had brought him.

It was bright red, with yellow lettering across the chest that, when he read it, had the FBI agent chuckling. "_When it positively has to be destroyed overnight: USMC_." He looked at the senior NCIS agent after slipping into the shirt. "You really believe Marines think like this?" He pointed to the shirt's saying.

"I know **we** do." She shrugged. "Besides, it was either that one or the one with the saying, _'Marines Unleashed: Sinking our teeth into the Middle East'."_

"Uh… this seems safer." He glanced over at Dunbar to see her looking toward the smaller conference room where Reeves and Granger had disappeared to with Keynes in tow. "Yelena … they're just trying to get Sunny to feel a little more comfortable, that's all. Colby's playing a role; he's too crazy about you to screw things up in front of you on a case."

She nodded as she looked back at him. "I am not worried about Colby, David. I'm nervous about Keynes. This is the first time, outside of the hour stint she pulled yesterday, that she's going to actually have to 'act' while undercover."

"Make it break it time for the Probie?" Don Eppes asked from where he sat at the front of the briefing room with Goldblum and Stringfield, where they were stowing away the extra battery packs for the communication gear.

"Yeah, and I want her to make it."

David exchanged looks with the other guys in the room and wasn't surprised to see mild shock on their faces. From how Dunbar had been treating Keynes, the guys were pretty sure the young NCIS Probationary Agent was on her way out but now the Senior NCIS agent was saying she wanted Keynes to stay.

"If it'll make you feel any better, Dunbar, Colby is one hell of an thespian and Reeves is a whiz-bang profiler." Eppes got up and walked over to where Yelena was watching the door of the conference room. "Those two giving Sunny a crash-course in acting and non-verbal communications is probably the best thing to happen to her. She'll be fine."

Dunbar nodded. "I hope so. I've got a strange feeling about tonight."

"You too, huh?" Don asked and David felt his heart speed up. "Guess we'd better keep a sharp lookout tonight then."

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Friday nights in any NCO Club, or Officer's for that matter, on any military post anywhere in the world are always packed. Especially in the later hours of the evening, particularly after the local movie houses disgorged their attendees. This night at their chosen target on Miramar was no different. Sinclair had gotten into place a lot earlier than had been his normal for the assignment, having arrived around 1830hrs and was already on his fifth "near beer" when Granger, with Keynes in tow, arrived in the club shortly after 2100hrs. The two teams didn't even acknowledge each other, David just waved an empty beer glass at the man tending bar, ordering the sixth non-alcoholic beverage even as Colby solicitously assisted Sunny to sit at the far end of the bar. Sunny hadn't been able to relax enough to accept the role of Colby's girlfriend from Camp Pendleton, so another idea was broached and the young agent had practically leapt on the idea.

Sunny glanced around the club, she'd not really done that the night before when she'd come in to play Granger's pissed off little sister, and she spotted the one woman Granger had warned her about. Sabera. A rather forward woman who'd made more than one play for Granger a few nights back. And the buxom redhead was approaching the bar where Colby was standing as he got drinks for them. She sidled off the high-rise chair at the table she and Colby had chosen for its location and line of site and slid up behind the venomous vixen without alerting the woman of her presence.

"I thought you said your girlfriend was a female Marine MP, Sarge."

Colby turned around, a little difficult to do that with Sabera pressed up against his back, to face the overly friendly lady. "She is. Hello, Sabera."

"Oh, I see someone saw fit to tell you my name and you remembered it. I must have made an impression." Her hand started to slowly trace the outline of Colby's chest muscles. "You should dump the little Barbie doll then and come along with a real woman."

Sunny had heard enough. She reached up and grabbed a handful of red, and rather coarse, shoulder-length hair and pulled the woman off Agent Granger. "This . . . walking STD factory bothering you, Bro?"

Colby grinned; Sunny was doing exactly as they had planned. "Nah, not too much, Sis."

Sunny smiled into Sabera's face as she pulled the woman back further, causing her to lean back to ease the pain on her scalp, but that only caused Sunny to tug even more. "Damn, cause I haven't had a good fight since leaving Iraq last week. Get out of here, skank." With a hard flick of the wrist and a toss of the arm, Sunny sent the much taller, and heavier, woman flying into a nearby table that was conveniently empty. She then grabbed up the tea glass Colby handed her and, after taking a deep drink, walked over to where Sabera had landed and was trying to regain her feet. "If I were you, I'd stay down or leave. I'm not going to put up with someone who harasses my brother – not when I happen to approve of his choice in girlfriends."

She gave the woman a love tap on the jaw line, then sauntered back her table, where more than one young Marine or Navy guy flocked to her like flies to honey, wanting to buy the Woman of the Hour as many drinks as she could possibly want. Sunny also managed to get a few phone numbers from the more promising of the would-be-suitors.

Colby stayed back and watched over the proceedings just like he really was Sunny's older brother, quietly reporting everything back to Yelena and Don in the Command van. What bothered him were the few men, not all service members, who hung back and the one who seemed all too attentive to Sinclair.

- - - - -

Don was monitoring Agent Keynes' communication set up, splitting his attention between her and Sinclair, while Dunbar – Yelena – kept track of Granger's audio feed and listened in on Sinclair's with him. The confines of the small communication van, currently masquerading as a broken down piece of crap, were too close for Don just to ignore the NCIS agent, so he opted for small talk.

"You've got a good team, Dunbar. Even Keynes is shaping up pretty well."

Her alto voice reached him across the darkened interior, lit only by the subdued glow off the control panels. "You've got a damn good team yourself, Eppes."

He quirked a smile in her direction, knowing she probably wouldn't see it. "Especially Granger?"

"He's good, but I was thinking Reeves was your best, truth be told."

"Oh?"

"Yeap." Her hand, pale in the greenish light from the controls, reached out and checked the gain the panel that was for Sinclair's feed. "She pretty much had me psychoanalyzed to a finite degree within hours of meeting me."

Don nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "Megan is good that way. She's sort of the glue that helps hold my team, and myself, together." He watched as her hand ghosted back up to the tuner. "Something wrong?"

"I don't think so—" She hit a toggle and swung the small boom mic back into place before her lips. "Colby, David's being awfully quiet, he alone or something?"

_"He's still working on one of his near beers and pouring over that drill instructor's manual you gave him."_

"Okay, what about Sunny?"

_"Currently playing a pretty damn good dart game against some single Marines – and winning."_

Don watched as Yelena smiled. "Okay, keep us updated." She flipped the toggle back to its previous position and turned the interior speakers back to where only the headphones on her head, or his, would broadcast the sounds and reports of the three agents inside the club.

"You couldn't have picked a better man if you had tried, Yelena."

"What?" She looked, and sounded, startled.

"Granger." He clarified. "He's a good agent, a damn good friend and a better man than most." Even though he couldn't tell for certain, Don thought Dunbar was blushing.

"I know." Her admission was quiet, so much so that Don nearly missed it, and then her voice got a little louder, but not at all strident. "I'm not trying to lure him away from your team, if that's what you're thinking, Don."

Don blinked. _Where the hell had that come from?_ "I never thought that, until you brought it up . . . are you in the habit of poaching from other agencies for NCIS?"

"No! Well, not really." Her tone had turned sly. "I will admit I try to recruit people who I think can bring something unique to NCIS, it's part of being a good team leader, and while I wouldn't mind headhunting Granger away from you—" He heard more than saw her shrug. "If I did that, I wouldn't be able to continue to pursue him in our off-time."

Don grinned. Here, apparently, was someone who adhered to the rules that he was prone to ignore – never date someone within your own department, or agency. "So you're serious about Colby, huh?"

"Not that it's any of your damn business, Eppes, but . . . yeah, I am."

Don had to fight to hold back a chuckle, for a moment there, Yelena Dunbar had sounded exactly like Catherine Larsen Granger. "No wonder Colby's drawn to you, Yelena."

While the lighting in the van wasn't enough to show him the tiny details in her features, it was bright enough to permit him to see how fast she swung around in her seat to face him. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Oh, nothing—" He drew out the last syllable until he was sure he heard her damn near growl. "It's just that you remind me of Colby's mom. Sweet woman, just don't cross her."

Don was rewarded with hearing Yelena chuckle. "Sounds like a woman I'll love—" She stopped suddenly and her hand flew up to her ear and the other snapped at him and he turned his attention back to the one audio fed that had been far too quite, too long, now that he stopped to think about it.

_"I'm telling ya, Sergeant, the women in San Felipe south of here are muy hermoso, muy caliente y muy experto en exposición a hombres un tiempo bueno...….." _

Don had to fight to translate the sudden switch, but clearly Yelena had no such difficulties. "Colby! Where's David?"

"Crap … he was there a minute ago, I had to make a fast pitstop."

Don got on the mic to Sunny. "Keynes, you see Sinclair anywhere?"

"He went past me with one of the club's employees, I thought he was being assisted to the head…"

"All units, look for Sinclair and an unknown male . . . cover all exits!" Don bellowed into his mic even as he stood up and got ready to bail out of the van, directly behind Yelena who'd already popped the side door and hit the pavement running.


	11. Chapter 11

See Disclaimer and Author Notes in Part One

Rated **"M"** for Mature

_More of that pesky, probably not correct, Spanish contained within. Online translators can be found either at AltaVista (Bablefish) or by Google-searching for Reverso Translator. Feedback after this chapter will be **greatly** appreciated! Suisan_

**Part Eleven**

Colby started to head toward the front of the club, saw Sunny heading that way and immediately turned around to head back to the hall that lead to the bathrooms, the back kitchen entrance and, conveniently, a employee entrance slash exit. He drew his sidearm before slowly easing his way through the door, inch by inch, until he could slip out into the parking area and slip into the shadows beside the walkway where he could observe without being observed. Scanning the parking area, he spotted two people, one leaning heavily on the other, weaving their way to a beat up car and Colby almost dismissed them but something about the way they were acting seemed . . . off.

Moving along the shadows, maneuvering closer to the strange behaving due, hoping to get a clearer view of the two before making any other decisions. He'd just about decided the two guys were just a couple of innocent drunks, until they passed under a streetlamp and Colby caught a glimpse of an all too familiar shaved pate. He moved a little faster to close the distance between himself and his targets, and spotted movement out of the corner of his eye coming around the building.

He turned his attention to warn the person off, only to stop when he spotted Yelena in the sodium glow and her notice was already riveted to the same target. Colby quickly returned to his objective and he moved a little closer to the two people even as one of them looked up and spotted Yelena.

"Mierda." The curse word was softly spoken but in the still, humid air, the sound carried clearly and even if Colby didn't recognize the voice, he understood the noun.

"Huh? Wha'cha upset about, Fabian?" He flinched, David's voice wasn't his usual confident tone, but rather he sounded drunk. Really drunk. Which didn't tally with what Colby knew his partner had been drinking all evening. He winced when 'Fabian's' hold on David changed and David protested. "Hey! Not the throat, dude!"

"¡No mames! Shut up!" The voice wasn't heavily accented, more LA Hispanic than fresh from the fields of Baja California, but the pitch was quite nasty.

Colby didn't wait any longer, he came out of the shadows, moving in such a way as to pull the perp's attention away from both David and Yelena and brought his gun up where the man could see it in the orange-tinted lighting. The man moved, bringing David around to use as a human shield, which was when Colby saw the knife held at his friend's throat. He rapidly keyed the microphone pick up and advised of the location and situation. "This is Granger, Dunbar and I have the perp and Sinclair behind the club. Perp has a knife and Sinclair seems incapacitated." His voice was soft, not wanting to inflame the temper of the man holding David.

"Hey, would you mind not holding that pig-sticker right there?" David's voice sounded querulous and like he was rapidly sobering up.

Colby stepped up into a bright light pool, so the man holding David could see the 1911 in his hands, before announcing his presence. "FBI! Drop the knife and move away from the Marine, Fabian."

"Screw you! I drop this and you shoot me."

"Sólo si usted nos da la razón, Fabian." Yelena's voice drifted over to Colby from her position, "Don't give us a reason. Drop the knife and release Sergeant Sinclair."

"¡Puta! You're Military Police." Fabian shifted again, now more concerned about Yelena and what she might do than what Colby might do. "Don't make me give this hombre negro a new smile, cabrona."

Just then David recovered enough of his wits and coordination to reach up and grab Fabian's arm, trying to pull the knife away from his throat. Dark brown eyes flaring with anger locked with Colby's. "Screw this shit! Shoot him! Just shoot this asshole, Granger!"

"Drop the knife, Fabian!"

"¡Deje caer el cuchillo!"

"¡Tornillo usted!" Fabian's hand tightened on the handle of the Marine K-Bar and no less than two shots rang out across the parking area and both David and the perp dropped to the pavement.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Don ran into Sunny coming out of the club, just as Megan and Lenny joined them from their observation post. "Did you see Sinclair?" He asked of the younger NCIS agent.

"No. Colby was heading toward the back of the club—" Her report was interrupted by Rick Stringfield's voice coming over the handheld radios and earbugs.

_"I've got the suspect and Sinclair spotted, back lot, Granger and Dunbar are closing in."_

He took off running, cursing the size of the building housing the enlisted club as it was a good 70 to 75 yards to reach the end of the structure from the entrance – no matter which way he'd gone. Don had just rounded the end to the right when he realized Agent Keynes had followed him while, presumably, Megan and Lenny went to cover the other end. He just hoped someone else thought to notify Miramar Base Security that there was a 'situation' going down, cause all he was worried about was getting his Agent back in one piece and not in an eviscerated mess.

Skidding to a halt on the loosely packed macadam at the corner of the building, he peered through the sodium lit false-twilight and spotted Dunbar first. She wasn't even trying for stealth, she was out in the open, her gun up in a classic two-handed grip and every now and then she was saying something in Spanish. Don glanced around, barely moving aside so Sunny could assess the situation on her own, and spotted Colby – tracking him by following his voice as he also tried to reason with someone named Fabian. That's when Don spotted David.

He was over by a dilapidated looking station wagon, being held in a one-armed chokehold by a Hispanic-looking male wielding a wicked looking and rather large knife, clearly yelling at Granger to shoot the man holding him. Don brought his own pistol up to try to cover the situation but quickly discovered Dunbar was in his line of fire. He started to maneuver around to get a clear shot, when the perp shouted 'Screw you!' in Spanish and a split second later, two shots rang out, less than a second apart. He watched in horror as the perp and Sinclair went down behind the Chevy station wagon.

Don froze. For about three, maybe six, seconds he froze and didn't move. Then his training kicked his butt into gear and he hoofed it over to where Granger was securing the bladed weapon and checking the status of the perp and Dunbar was covering Colby while examining David.

"You _shot_ me!"

"No, if I'd shot you, you'd be dead." She peered at his upper arm in the glow of a mini-maglight. "It's just a graze. Slap a couple of Band-Aids on it and call it good. Or we can get the medics over here to take a look if you don't want to drive over to the nearest clinic on your own."

"What about this?" David lifted his chin and Don saw a line about three inches long slowly oozing blood down the scarlet shirt, making it look merely wet in the streetlamp light. The flashlight came up and Dunbar let out a mild curse as she quickly dug up a white piece of cloth, folded it and slapped it on Sinclair's throat.

"Okay, _that_ one gets looked at. SUNNY! Get that cracker box moving if you haven't already done so."

Don came up beside the Agents and, looking over at Colby, knew the perp was dead and taking a good gander at the agent who'd been on his team the longest, Don knew it had been a close call for David too. "Are we sure this subject is the one we're after?" He had to ask and did so as he put his sidearm back into his holster and snapped it secure.

David looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah, just before Colby and Dunbar found us, Fabian pretty much told me he enjoyed 'screwing with the military'." He shook his head, which caused Dunbar to bring her own hand back over his on the compress on his throat. "Yeow! Sorry, right, pressure. Constant pressure." David looked back up at Don with a shrug. "He spoke too quietly for the mic to pick up so we may have to rely on my testimony and anything we can find at his place in Oceanside." He looked over at Dunbar, "Can your office get that sort of warrant?"

"Yes. Now, damn it, _hold_ that compress tight or I'll hold it for you until you pass out." Dunbar snarled at David.

"Yes, 'em."

Don shook his head and went over to take a better look at the man either Granger or Dunbar had shot to death and was surprised to see two wounds on the man's chest. Both fairly close together and damn near perfectly centered in the 'kill' zone. The perp looked to be in his early to mid thirties, fairly well built without being overly muscled up and his face, relaxed in death, was the type that seemed approachable, friendly even. "Damn, no wonder he was able to lure people out into his trap. Double tap?" He asked of Granger without specifying. It wasn't needed.

"No. Two separate shots." Colby quietly broke down his side arm, ejecting the magazine and clearing the chamber before handing it over to Don. He then took two steps over toward Dunbar and softly said her name. "Yelena?" She merely nodded and he bent down to slip her own sidearm out of its holster then stood up and cleared it before handing it to Don as well.

"Great. So I now get to run yet another investigation on you and a NCIS agent for a shooting, Colby?" Don hoped he put the right amount of 'teasing' in his voice and he must have, for Colby and Yelena chortled. "Of course, if you hadn't shot when you did, there's a damn good chance I'd be worried about a possibly decapitated agent." Don handed over the pistols, both Springfields and both 1911s – he knew Megan would be able to keep the pieces from getting mixed up – to Reeves and Lenny when they showed up, pointing the medical team over to their location.

The rest of the night turned into a blur of activity as Miramar Security, Marine Law Enforcement and Shore Patrol as well as another team from the FBI San Diego sub-office and a couple of NCIS Agents from Diego Depot showed up as well as the county coroner and a jurisdictional battle ensued. NCIS and the FBI finally 'won' the battle and after Granger and Dunbar had walked the new team of agents through what had happened and where they'd fired from – the team bitched about matching sidearms and calibers, until Colby and Yelena reminded them that he used Federal ammo while she used Hydra-Shocks – three times before they were released from the scene.

Sinclair ended up being transported to the Base Dispensary for a few butterfly 'stitches' on his throat and a tetanus booster shot for the bullet graze, then he was sent home. Megan volunteered to drive him and Don let her, knowing she was also more than a little anxious to see Larry again after nearly a week on an assignment that had disrupted their love life.

The next few days were spent on reports and trying to find out the 'motive' behind Fabian Sepulveda's murderous schemes. Don had his team back in Los Angeles and working their fingers to the bones getting their reports ready for the US District Attorney's Office. Robin Brooks had been given the case initially, but she handed it off to someone else when she felt there might be a conflict of interest. Don wasn't too sure he liked the idea of Sebastian Stark working as an Independent Counsel for the District Attorney's Office, but he also knew the Shark would be scrupulously fair.

Especially in the shooting investigation, since the autopsy didn't – or couldn't – tell which shot was the kill shot as both bullets hit within less than an inch apart at point of entry and the heart had been turned to . . . Don didn't finish reading that report. Thankfully Stark's team, with Investigator Isaac Wright taking the lead for the Justice side of things, came back with a 'clean shoot' determination for both Granger and Dunbar. Which gave Don the 'excuse' he wanted.

It was Thursday morning, nearly a full week after the shooting at Miramar, when Don caught Colby in the break room, fixing what had to be the younger agent's third cup of coffee since coming in an hour earlier. "Granger?"

"Morning, Don."

"You have a long weekend request in for this weekend, right?" Don asked as he fixed his own cup of decaf java.

Granger looked over at him, an expression of dismay slowly creeping over his features before he schooled it into neutrality. "Yeah— Do I need to cancel my plans?"

"Nope." He reached over and clasped the younger man on the shoulder. "Do you think Yelena would mind you dropping in on her a day earlier than expected?" Don tried not to laugh at the shocked expression on Granger's face. "Go on, take today off and get a jump start on whatever you have planned for this weekend."

He walked out of the break room, not even pausing to look back. He didn't have to. He knew from the growing grins on David's and Megan's faces that Colby had wasted no time and had scooted out of the coffee room and down the stairs before his boss could change his mind.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Their original plans had called for meeting up at Joshua Tree National Park's Cottonwood Visitor's Center near the south entrance to the park, transferring their gear to her Tahoe – since his Charger wouldn't handle the back roads very well, and then driving out to the staging area just below Aqua Peak. From there, they would've hiked up to the campsite she had found and made a habit of using whenever she had a chance to break away from the office. With the extra, and unexpected, half day off Colby was able to get a head-start and US Park Rangers Blakemore and Kicklighter were more than happy to help haul him and the camping gear to the staging area, on the pretense of 'needing to check registrations and hiker plans anyway.' Whatever their reason, it gave Colby a massive lead and, by using the GPS coordinates Yelena had giving him as well as a GPS locator he'd borrowed from the office, he'd arrived at the site and had nearly everything set up before she arrived from work.

"For a Marine, you make a lot of noise coming up the trail, Dunbar."

Her smile was brilliant and warm in a face that was, thankfully, relaxed as he hadn't seen it since the joint investigation started. "You forget, I stopped by the Visitor's Center, called Kicklighter and he told me they had given you the same permission they usually give me – I knew you are packing and wanted to make enough noise so you wouldn't shoot me, Granger."

He stepped over to where she stood and helped her out of the large, hard-framed backpack she'd lugged up the mountain. "Knew you were a smart woman." He lowered the tan and purple canvas bag to the ground with one hand as he reached out with the other to pull her close and planted a kiss on her lips. "I expected you more than 40 minutes ago, what kept you?"

She extracted herself from his one-armed embrace and, after shrugging out of her light windbreaker, reached into a side pocket of her backpack and dug up a thick file and offered it to him. "We got the results of our forensic-psychoanalysis on Sepulveda, I thought maybe your team might like to know what motivated his particular ticks."

Colby waved it off. "I read what our BAU came up with, post-case. They still haven't figured out what tripped his trigger, but they pretty much agreed that he had more than a few screws loose."

Yelena shrugged, then stuffed the file back into her bag. "Yeah, well, our specialist back at headquarters had access to more than the BAU did. For example, Sepulveda's father was a Marine who transferred over to the Navy when his wife left him and Fabian."

"BAU suspected the subject's mother had abandoned him at a young age." Colby supplied as he finished setting up the inside of the tent in the fading light of the afternoon. He pulled a couple of collapsible camp pillows from a small case and, after fluffing them up, tossed them onto the sleeping pallets. "They also suspected that his father had turned abusive—"

"Not according to base records." Her voice drifted into the tent behind him. "I brought more MRE's along, not a single serving of Mac N' Cheese in the bunch, you want me to start the meals now or wait a bit?"

He backed out of the canvas shelter and turned to face her. "You remembered?"

"How could I forget?" She walked over to him, holding out two different MRE packages.

She was obviously intending to just have him choose between the two entrees, but he had other ideas and pulled her down into his lap. "Hmm . . . Decisions, decisions. Do I want Beef Teriyaki, Turkey Tetrazzini or you?" He put his words to action by capturing her mouth with his and kissing her relentlessly until he felt her body relax against his. He paused and looked at her, even still slightly sweaty and more than a little dirt streaked from the climb she was still quite alluring. However, his brain kicked into gear and he couldn't stop himself from asking, "What did you mean, 'not according to base records'?"

One eyebrow went up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh, so _now_ you're interested in what NCIS's Forensic Psychologist said?" Shaking her head as she chuckled lightly, Yelena got up from his lap and walked back to where she'd set up the camp stove. "Doctor Mallard, with a little assistance from Agent McGee, managed to pull the crime and civil dispute reports from all the bases Papa Sepulveda had been assigned to and there's not even so much as a suspected whisper of impropriety. No disturbance calls, nothing in Fabian's school records from teachers or counselors, nada that might have sent up warning flares about junior being a future serial killer."

Colby had finished setting up the tent and walked over to stand beside Yelena and wrapped an arm around her waist. "'Lena, you and I both know, serial killers don't just happen—"

"I know, which is why Doctor Mallard also included his conjecture that something happened to Fabian recently that set him off." She leaned up against him, watching the pot of simmering water as she folded her arms around his waist. "Lenny and Sunny did a lot more digging, with Rick and I taking a small trip into Mexico to chase down a couple of leads and, I think, we may have found the stressor."

"May have?" He turned her around to look at him. "That sounds more like you did to me."

She let out a sigh and lightly nodded her head. "I am pretty sure we did, but I am not sure I should tell you, or the rest of your team."

"Why?"

"Because it might explain why Fabian chose David over you or any of the other 'bait' we tossed his way, as well as his choice in victims."

Colby just held her a little tighter as the water simmered a little closer to a hard boil on the stove. "He was gay, wasn't he?" She just nodded in response.

"Rick and I located Fabian's first male lover down in Ojos Negros and though it made me sick, I listened as he bragged about how he'd taken a young man from Lado del Océano – Oceanside – and twisted him into something that he wasn't."

"But that doesn't explain his going strictly after military people."

She loosened his embrace as she took the water off the stove, poured a bit into the pouch of Beef Teriyaki and then sealed it again before answering. "It does if you take into account that Fabian's most recent lover, an active duty Marine, tossed him aside for a Navy guy."

Colby shuddered. He'd talked with Megan about the idea that Fabian Sepulveda's stressor might have been linked to some sort of romantic jilting but since they couldn't find anyone willing to admit to loving the man, they'd tossed it aside. "That's why he chose military, in particular – Navy and Marines, he was striking out at his ex vicariously. But what was with the heroine in the blood of all his victims?"

"We still haven't figured that out." She looked over her shoulder at him. "Now, that's enough about work . . . where did you hide the plates or are we eating straight out of the pouch with our fingers?"

He let out a titter of mirth as he walked over to where he'd dropped the smaller backpack of two he'd hauled up the mountainside and pulled out two sets of camp dinnerware. "I thought about the finger-food thing, but realized you couldn't drink coffee from your hands." Colby handed her the plates as he setup a couple of tin cups with freeze-dried coffee, added water and then handed one to her in exchange for a plate of Mountain House's rehydrated teriyaki.

After cleaning up their campsite, using sand to scrub clean the dinnerware, Colby and Yelena sat side by side in the doorway of the tent, out of the direct and cutting wind blowing up from the east. The sun was finally setting and the two of them were just enjoying the beauty of the land and sky while, occasionally, stealing a few moments to kiss one another. The sky had turned from pale blues and pinks to dark gray and awe-inspiring shades of gold and orange as she leaned up against him, her arms wrapped around his left bicep.

"Now this isn't a waste, is it, CeeJay?"

He looked down into her eyes in the muted light and shook his head. "Nope, this is exactly as a sunset should be shared." Colby ran a gentle finger across her jaw line and slowly tilted her head back and brushed her lips with his. "What do you say to slipping into the tent for the night after the sun has fully set?"

"Why, Agent Granger, are you suggesting that we . . . _sleep together_ in the small confines of the tent?"

Colby sat back, a little taken aback by the seriousness in her tone, until he spotted a glint of humor sparkling deep in her eyes. He started to chuckle and was relieved when she joined in. "You almost had me there, 'Lena. Good one." He once again pulled her body close against his and started to kiss her in earnest.

He almost protested when Yelena wriggled out of his embrace, but it was just long enough to straddle his hips and wrap her legs and arms around him. "CeeJay—I think we've had enough sunset appreciation time, don't you?" Her lips seared his and then left a trail of fire across his ear, down the side of his neck and then lower as she unbuttoned and removed his camp shirt.

Colby didn't wait for to remove his tank top undershirt before he reached up and clasped her head in his hands and pulled her lips back to his, then left his own trail of kisses down her torso as he unbuttoned her shirt. Before the light of day had fully faded from the horizon, the two of them were more than half-naked and needing more than just kisses, licks and heavy stroking of each other's bodies to satisfy themselves. Using his legs and arms, as well as Yelena using hers, they managed to scoot backward into the tent and off the hard surface of the tent floor over sandstone unto the thick, air foam pads and sleeping bags.

Yelena reached up toward the apex of the domed tent and, finding the LED lamp hanging from the support struts and she stretched and turned the lamp onto low, Colby took advantage to capture a firm nipple in his lips and gave it a gentle bite. His reward was her moan of passion and her hands guiding his mouth to the other breast before she reached down and, grasping the elastic band of his underwear, started to slide her hands down under. When she made contact, he lifted her up by the waist and, with his teeth, lowered the last remaining obstacle between him and what he wanted. A little cooperation between the two of them and soon their bodies lay exposed to the dim white light and Colby wasn't surprised when Yelena tried to reclaim the top position on his hips. His hands shot out and, once again, capturing her waist prevented her plan of attack. Instead, he guided her legs up around his waist and, once she locked her ankles behind his back, he leaned forward and laid her on her back. His hands moved up to her scalp and spread her long, dark hair all around her head and kissed her mouth, deeply, tongues tangling and tasting as their bodies started to move in a rhythm as old as time.

Colby didn't wait for permission but returned the favors she'd bestowed upon him nearly a week ago as his kisses dropped lower and lower down her body until she was panting in need and quietly calling his name. Sliding home, ever so slowly, he couldn't believe how lucky he'd been to find this woman. The last time they'd made love, and that's how he thought about it, Yelena had been so wound up she'd practically vibrated with energy. This time the post-coital glow seemed to have the opposite affect on her as she curled up in his arms, her legs intertwined with his, and dropped into a light doze.

He wasn't sure how long he slept afterwards, but when he woke up, he couldn't help but notice that Yelena was sound asleep and comfortably curled in his arms. He kissed her brow lightly and whispered, "I know your secret, 'Lena."

"What's that, CeeJay?" He hadn't expected her to be awake enough to answer.

"You sleep best once you've cleared your cases."

"Don't you?" She asked in a drowsy voice.

He didn't respond to her question for a while and when he felt ready to, she'd fallen into a deeper sleep and he wasn't going to wake her up from the first real rest she'd probably gotten in over two weeks. There would be time enough, later in their relationship, to tell her that he still had trouble sleeping – often waking up from nightmares wherein Lancer succeeding in killing him for good. For now, Colby just wanted to hold her tight, caress her and shelter her in his arms and keep her safe from whatever haunted her so badly that it affected her sleep. Once he was certain she hadn't wakened, he slowly moved his arm out from under her relaxed body, rolled to his feet and turned off the lamp hanging above them. Stepping out of the tent, he stretched and, spotting a shooting star, made a wish.

A few minutes later, he ducked back into the tent, gathered Yelena into his arms and fell asleep. Knowing that, for once, neither Mad Hattie MacPherson nor Mason Lancer would haunt his dreams and he thanked her for chasing off most of his personal demons with her loving.

**- - - - 1 - - - - 2 - - - - 3**

Don Eppes finished looking over the report NCIS Agent Dunbar had faxed to him just before two in the afternoon, long after he'd sent Colby home. Clearly, Yelena had not left her job until sometime after she'd sent the multi-paged fax, for there had been a handwritten note on the cover sheet.

_We're not in cell range, we're not carrying anyway._

_If you need to get in touch with CeeJay, call Ranger Kicklighter._

_Dunbar._

He'd snickered over the note, until he had started to read the forensic psychological report on Fabian Sepulveda by someone with the unlikely name of Doctor Donald Mallard. If Doctor Mallard was correct, and there was no reason to think he wasn't, Fabian had been acting out of rage, not passion or greed or some sick need to project power. The NCIS report almost squared with the one the BAU sent after Megan had requested a post-mortem work up on the killer.

Rubbing his eyes, Don looked at his watch and realized he had thirty minutes before he had to leave to pick Robin up from her office. Closing the report folder, he placed it on Megan's desk knowing the behaviorist would like to read it and pick it apart if she could. Maybe even going so far as to contact this "Doctor Mallard" by email or by phone.

Closing down his computer as he strapped on gun and other gear, Don tossed a dark gray jacket on over the top of his black jeans, black golf polo and, not looking back, walked out of the office hoping and praying his team would catch a break and not get called back into work before Monday. For his sake, Megan's, Colby's and David's – whom he'd spotted walking out of the Federal building with Dr. Gomez from the Medical Examiner's office. He rode the elevator down to the lobby, his thoughts turned inward as he tried to make sense of Sepulveda's apparent motives, so that when the doors opened unto the lobby floor, he was surprised to see Robin Brooks standing there.

"About time you came down from your aerie, Eppes."

"Am I late?" He looked over at the massive clock above the reception desk and, glancing at his watch again, realized he wasn't.

"No, I finished up earlier than expected and thought I'd come and surprise you for once."

"Oh yeah?" He smiled as he wrapped his left arm around her waist as they walked through the lobby and out the main entrance together. "Miss Brooks, are you in the mood for dinner or something else?"

She leaned against him and whispered in his ear, "Something else. Dessert sounds good to me."

Don looked at her and seeing the open invitation there, wasted no time getting her to his SUV and then to his place.

**_The End_**

To share in the sunset: http: / i52 . photobucket . com / albums / g12 / Suisan / SunsetJoshuaTreeCA . jpg (remove spaces - add underscores between Sunset & Joshua, Tree & CA)

* * *

_Let me take this time to reiterate that **feedback**, even a simple comment, at this point would be **GREATLY appreciated**. I mean, come on, you've read this whole monster without a comment. Now it's over and it's time to tell me what you **really thought** of the story. _

_Please? _

_Thank You._

_Suisan_


End file.
